The Empty Space Next to Me
by InNeedOfInspiration
Summary: Steve goes to Vormir to bring Natasha back and fails. But when Natasha reappears months later on the radar, Steve has an unexpected second chance. Little does he know that —nor understands how— Natasha has become a hostess in a guesthouse in Louisiana. Can he find Natasha again?
1. Chapter 1

The place reeks of gloom and forebodes the worst in every aspect of it. Steve has just appeared on the dark dunes that have been haunting his dreams for the past weeks. The eclipsed sun peeks through the stifling clouds.

He warily looks up at the mountain towering over Vormir. The amber light of the last stone in his pocket glows through the fabric.

After a long and dreadful ascension, Steve comes face to face with the floating red creature that Clint had described to him many times. Except he is a familiar face from his past.

"Steven, son of Joseph," Red Skull says.

His somber specter floats down from the sky. Steve clenches his fist.

"Schmidt," he grits his teeth.

"That was in another lifetime. I am no longer that person — I have changed. And so have you."

Steve probes him coldly.

"But I never thought our paths would meet again," Red Skull continues. His eyes glance down at his pocket. "You have come to return the Stone."

Steve stands up square, both fists clenched.

"That is one reason. I'm here to get her back."

Red Skull knows who he is talking about. He guides him up the trail to the sacrificial altar. It looks just the way Clint described it, but his description doesn't come near as frightful as it is to his eye.

Staring down at the worn stone, it seems he can see the print of her boots as she ran over to the edge. His eyes begin to fill with water. He looks away and shakes his head.

He takes a deep breath in and turns to Red Skull again. "Where is Natasha?"

"The sacrifice required by the stone cannot be revoked."

"Bullshit."

"Her soul now belongs to the stone. It has been cleansed and made anew before departing."

Steve shakes his head as he comes to the realization that his worst nightmare is becoming true. "It can't. It can't. I am bringing the Stone back to have an exchange."

"The sacrifice made is permanent."

"We'll see about it," Steve mutters decisively.

He lifts Mjolnir, summons thunder and hits the specter with it. The thunderbolt jolts through him like through air and dies out.

"Your effort is vain. I cannot be fought just as I will not fight you. I am simply serving the Stone."

But Steve can't hear it. He stepped on the time machine with the strong determination to bring Natasha back with him. It was the only thought his mind could grasp onto not to fall into despair. The certainty that she could be brought back is what made the past few weeks more bearable.

He summons thunder again and hits the specter, again and again, but always unsuccessfully. Physical exhaustion, coupled with mental weariness, eventually get the best of him. And as he realizes that he has failed in his mission, he collapses to his knees. The heavy silence falls over his shoulders and he stares down at the floor. He sees Clint's broken arrow on the ground, only token of their visit and her sacrifice.

He clutches it in his fist and tears roll down his cheek.

Natasha is gone.

The sadness he feels and the bitter memory of his failure near self-loathing. Since he has returned to the present, he hasn't found sleep. The memories of Natasha haunt his nights. His brain goes over the same thoughts over and over again, the most obsessive one being he hasn't done enough to try and bring her back and that he should go back to fight Red Skull.

But Sam and Bucky are always there to talk him out of it. Both seem to genuinely believe has tried his best but, to him, it feels like it wasn't enough.

It is a bright, sunny day outside and he is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the black blazer hanging on the backrest of the chair in the corner.

His eyes flicker to the mirror standing in front of him and he sees his pale, haggard face staring back at him in revulsion. The perfectly ironed white cotton shirt and black trousers can hardly conceal his disheveled look. The thin black tie is hanging loose around his neck. While dressing up, he had to take a break.

A knock on the door echoes across the dead room. Bucky steps through, fully attired, his hair neatly slicked back.

"It's nearly time," his best friend softly says, hands in the pockets.

Steve looks down at the floor again. "I'm not sure I can do it, Buck."

Bucky walks up to him, his body language and expression bear the solemnity of the day. Today is Natasha's funeral.

Steve had refused to have a funeral because there was no reason to believe she was gone. Tony's ceremony took a toll on him, but he stood up strong fueled by the hope he would bring her back.

After the ceremony, he had gone to Clint and shared his intention to go to Vormir for her. Clint had not been as enthusiastic as he had expected. His sorrow did not resemble his to the least as it already bore the first traces of mourning. But he could not mourn; mourning would have meant accepting she was forever gone. He forbid Clint to hold a funeral. Clint had reluctantly agreed.

But when he returned without her, Barton immediately set a date.

Nothing big or public — like she would have wanted— but something so her family could gather and say goodbye.

Although Steve can see why it is important to have it, he is not sure he is fine with the idea of it.

"I know it's hard," Bucky says. "But saying goodbye is what you need right now."

He lifts his fist up to his chin. "What I need right now is Natasha. If I go…," his voice breaks, "If I go it means I have given up."

He looks up at his friend with red eyes.

Bucky nods slowly. "I know. But she would want you there with the rest of her family."

One of their last conversations in the command room plays again in his head. "_I had this family,_" she said with fond sadness.

Bucky gently presses his hand on the back of his shoulder to make him stand up. He holds the two ends of his tie and meticulously ties it. He adjusts the knot at the base of his throat and looks at him.

"You got this," he reassures him.

Steve and Bucky join the gathering by the lake and are immediately met by Sam bearing a sullen expression. He shares a rapid glance with Bucky then walks over to Steve and lays hand on his shoulder.

Hulk is sitting along with Rhodey on one the benches, his arm still in a splint. Clint is farther away with his family — the children are standing quietly with sad looks — glances in his direction then resumes conversing with Laura. Wanda, who is staring at the lake, turns around and comes up to Steve. She opens her arms and holds him in her arms. She seems relieved to see he has come.

The gathering is outrageously small — part of him hates that only a few people are attending when her sacrifice has helped to bring trillions of people back.

Clint is the first to speak with tearful eyes but with a peaceful and collected tone of voice. Then Wanda with the heavy and accepting voice of someone who has gone through too much loss. Banner speaks next then the audience turns silent.

All are quietly waiting for _him_ to say a few words— he can feel some glances on him. Sam is sitting beside him, a little tense. He is about to stand up to divert the attention away but Steve stops him with a gentle pat on the arm. He gets up and walks to the front.

"Natasha is one of the first people I met when I arrived here. And she practically never left my side from then on…because she knew solitude well enough to know how dreadful it can be. So over the years, she successively became a teammate, then a friend, a confidante, an ally, family —sometimes all of these at once—, without I ever needed to ask her. That's who Natasha is," he says with a small shrug. "She selflessly soothes the people she cares about and never asks anything in return. And it's why the exchange for the Stone was so painfully successful. Nat is…was…the soul of this team. Pure and giving."

He looks away for a moment as he tries to hold back his tears. He has lost the woman he loves but it took him too long to realize. He made the same mistake of waiting too long again. "Natasha was all of these things for me the past 11 years because she didn't want me to be alone, and now that she is gone, the empty space next to me is excruciating. I see the absence of her everywhere. But I know what she would say to me. When I told her we should both get a life, she told me "you first". It seems like a Sisyphean task right now but after what she's done for us, the least I owe her is to honor her dare." He pauses with a sad smile and looks up. "So Natasha, wherever you are, I hope you have found peace and I promise I'll try my best to move on."

And so he tried to move on.

Weeks go by, and then months. Life goes back to some kind of routine. For him, it mostly consists of work and casual drinks with Sam and Bucky from time to time. He laughs at the jokes, but only at the surface. He tries to ignore the empty seat at their table. He tries to mute the ghost chuckles that echo through the compound. Sam and Wanda took care of packing her belongings and empty her bedroom, but he doesn't let anybody use it. And he has kept her pointe shoes. They're hung at the edge of his bedhead. They're worn out but he can't bring himself to wash them up — he is afraid it will spoil them, strip them of their history.

It has been four months since Thanos was defeated and the world has changed greatly. The Avengers aren't as needed as they used to be. The few disturbances are easily handled by authorities or with the intervention of a single Avenger.

He monitors things but only on paper. What it really means is him giving obvious instructions and waiting for the update.

A couple of months ago, he began taking on cooking classes. His skills have improved — Nat would probably be proud.

"Captain Rogers," the software calls. Something that has become rarer and rarer.

"Yes, Friday? Any issue somewhere that would need our intervention."

"No, Captain. But there have been a couple of similar reports by civilians that have caught my attention."

"What kind of reports?" Steve asks.

"It seems they have had an encounter with someone resembling agent Romanoff."

He frowns. "Probably erroneous reports. Why are you sharing this with me?"

"I had a look through the local data in search of more evidence and found something."

He freezes and gulps nervously. "Show me," he says.

The holographic screen opens and he falls in his seat as he clearly identifies the woman strolling down the street in the CCTV footage. She undeniably looks like Natasha. She is wearing a casual top with jeans and is smiling.

"Where and when?" he asks.

"Four days ago in a small town of Louisiana."

He has a thousand questions right now but he can hardly hear over the sound of his pounding heart.

"I have to go and clear this up."

"Shall I warn agent Barton and the others?" Friday asks.

"No. Not until I am sure it is her. I don't want to give anybody false hope."

He runs to his room and quickly packs up a bag. "Tell the team I'll be back in a few days."

"Yes, Captain."

He goes to the garage, gets in one of the cars.

He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help himself to hope it is Natasha. The engine roars as he drives off.

Steve enters the small county with apprehension. The place is so rural and remote that the cap and sunglasses he is wearing to remain anonymous are unnecessary.

He soon walks along the street where the woman looking like Natasha was caught on CCTV. He starts asking around about her with a photo of Natasha. But nobody seems to have seen her. She is like a mirage.

An elderly man eventually takes a second look at the picture Steve is holding.

"Oh yes, I have seen her before. But she doesn't live here. She works at the Millers guesthouse 30 miles from here."

"How long has she been working there for?"

"I don't know. More or less 3 months."

"Do you know her name?"

The man shakes his head no.

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Oh definitely, she isn't the type of woman you forget."

Steve jumps in the car and drives out the town. Nearing the destination, he enters an area filled with nothing but woods, lakes, and meadows. Nothing makes sense and he doesn't understand what Natasha could possibly be doing here.

He parks his car in front of an old, big house with worn white paint.

He gets out of the car and a Golden Retriever comes running to him, wagging its tails then barks as if to make the arrival of a visitor known.

The door of the front porch opens and a slender figure steps out. The woman is wearing a white floral dress with leather flat shoes. Her bright red hair, tied up in a ponytail, shines under the bright rays of sunshine.

He stands still, feeling his legs thaw under him.

Natasha — because he knows it is Natasha — gracefully walks down the stairs, across the lawn to him. She has a little smirk on as she looks him up and down with a mildly curious expression. The dog runs up and around, waiting for his reward. She pets its head softly and opens her palm to give it a candy.

She finally comes to stand in front of him.

"Hi," she says with a friendly smile. She patiently waits for him to voice his request.

"Natasha?" he murmurs.

She smirks. "Almost. Riley/Katherine," she corrects with an amused smirk.

Her aloofness surprises him. As amicable as she is, her interaction lacks companionship.

He thought he lost her but she is standing right here in front of him, looking well. He reaches over and holds her in his arms tightly.

Her arms do not hold him, instead, her palm gently push his waist away but he does not notice. He looks at her face again — because he needs to — and he leans in to close the unbearable distance between them.

He is suddenly flipped backward and falls harshly on his side. Natasha is hunched over him, her palm hardly pressed on his chest. She looks confused and downright annoyed.

"I don't know who you are and where you come from but this isn't how we greet strangers here."


	2. Chapter 2

Lying on the grass still damp from the dew and staring back quizzically at the familiar pair of gorgeous emerald eyes above him, Steve finds himself at a loss for words or explanations.

A warm tongue appears out of nowhere and sluggishly runs across his face. He looks sideways at the dog leaning over the side of his face.

Her features relax and she smiles.

"Looks like you got your kiss after all," she jokes then motions to the dog to move away. "Come on, Riley."

He doesn't know what to think right now but he can see Natasha genuinely doesn't recognize him. Or is it really Natasha? His emotions might have made him jump the gun. But before he allows disappointment to take hold of him and brushes hope away, he needs to investigate and find out who that woman is.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head vehemently and gets on his feet. "I thought —"

"No harm done," she brushes it off with a wave of the hand. "Are you here to have a room?"

He pats his hands over the back of his arms and looks up at her with a slightly surprised expression. Then he remembers…the guesthouse.

"Yes," he trails off. "I haven't made any reservation, though."

It makes her smile. "We don't do this, here. It's not like we need to, anyway. It's pretty quiet around here, you'll get to see."

A bird endorses it by singing loudly across the quiet meadow.

"Follow me?" she asks.

For her? Anywhere across the entire universe. He opens the door of the car and reaches for his bag. They head towards the porch where the paint on the fence is crackled all over; the wooden floor moans loudly as he steps on it. There is a wicker bench with a small round side table next to it. A few plant pots are lying at the end of the fence and along the floor against it.

She opens the door in a creaking sound and he is not surprised when he catches sight of the paper pinned on it which reads a handyman is wanted.

The atmosphere is inside is slightly different: old but in a quaint and cozy way. She goes straight up the stairs, down a long hall.

"This is Mrs. Miller's room," she points casually a door as she walks past it. "Lovely lady, although a little too outspoken for my sanity. Don't worry about making noise, she's a heavy sleeper."

She finally stops to the last door and opens it. A bright room with light blue wallpaper, a King Size bed with a predominant navy-blue handmade quilt lying across the end of it — "quite fitting", he thinks ironically.

"Breakfast is at 8. Dinner is at 7," she recites with natural easiness as he steps inside and looks around. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything," she adds.

He spins his head around with a mildly disconcerted expression. Part of him is afraid of losing her again; the other half is anxious to keep her in his sight, always.

"What's your name?" she asks.

He gazes her intently. The scene feels bittersweet.

"Steve," he answers. Steve will be enough for now.

"I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us, Steve."

"Thank you…," he pauses.

Natasha smiles at him. "Katherine," she says.

He nods to himself and watches her close the door of his room before disappearing.

He's missing her again ten minutes later but represses the urge to go downstairs as he fears she will definitely label him a creep if he does.

He paces around the room instead of trying to make sense of the whole situation.

His patience comes to an end two hours later and he goes down to the living room. He finds an elderly woman sitting on the sofa in the patio, drinking herbal tea.

The woman, with elegant and soft features, witnesses of her beauty in her youth, and grey hair styled in a pixie haircut, takes her eyes off her book and probes him with a smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Hello, handsome," she says assertively.

He pauses behind the armchair across from her.

"Pretty sure he has a name, Eliza," her approaching voice echoes from another room. Natasha —Katherine— walks in, carrying a tray with a teapot. She pours him a cup as he sits down in the armchair.

The elderly woman shrugs nonchalantly. "I doubt it'll be as spot-on."

"My name is Steve," he says quickly as Katherine pours more tea into the woman's mug.

Eliza raises an eyebrow and shoots a winning look at her. "Didn't I tell you so?"

He laughs nervously. Two pairs of eyes look in his direction.

The woman stretches her hand out to him.

"You'll have to excuse me, we don't get many people around here, and those who have preceded you weren't such a riveting sight. My name's Eliza Miller, as you might have guessed by now, I'm a blunt, grumpy retired woman, too old for societal manners imposed by our rigorous Republican government, itself born from the English Empire."

Eliza eyes him intently. He blinks then reaches over to shake her hand.

Katherine rolls her eyes and quickly fills in the awkward silence. "She's kidding."

"I presume the tea is in sign of protest?" he comments with a smile.

"Well," Eliza says as she holds her mug. "The English did leave some good things behind."

She then turns to look up at Katherine still standing beside her. "I like him. Can we keep him?"

* * *

"You've lived here for long?" he asks Eliza over dinner.

The three of them are gathered around the large rectangle table. He is sitting across from Katherine, while Eliza is at the head next to them.

"I grew up here," Eliza answers. "When I married Robert, I made him move here with me. He left the city for me, and I'm sure he was grateful to me for it although he was too stubborn to admit it."

He and Katherine smile. "I'm not one of those delusional, blind to the truth, sentimental people, though. This poor house is slowly falling apart and there's too much that needs to be done. I'm thankful to have Katherine to help."

Katherine smiles sheepishly. "Anyone would like more pasta?" she asks.

"Katherine doesn't like to be praised."

"That's because I would rather have a pay raise," she teases.

"And I told you sweetie that I can only pay you with compliments. So please do accept them gracefully."

Steve and Katherine chuckle.

"After the second Snap, I was all alone here, and Katherine's arrival was like a blessing for the business. And in my life."

He takes mental notes of this valuable piece of information. He wants to ask more but he somewhat feels Katherine is keeping an eye on him.

After dinner, he gets up and thanks the ladies for their company. While Katherine goes to tidy up the kitchen, he purloins her butter knife and hides it behind his back before rushing upstairs.

Back in his room, he uses his phone to scan the object for fingerprints and sends it to Friday. Now it is only a matter of hours before he gets the results. He sits on the edge of the bed and breathes out heavily.

He dreads the outcome of the situation.

He does not find sleep that night.

The next morning, he is down for breakfast slightly before 8. He sits at the kitchen and watches Katherine as she is turning off the coffee machine. She is wearing black jeans with a white top and an open checked shirt on top of it.

She flips around at the sound of the stool, grabs the jug of coffee, puts a mug in front of him before pouring the hot liquid in it.

"Good morning, Mr. Intense." She says with a smile.

"Steve," he answers.

Katherine props her shoulder on the counter and leans on her chin. He almost burns his tongue sipping the coffee.

"I know, but I like Mr. Intense better." She eyes him intently. "So what did you come here for? I take it it's not to discover the area."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why not?"

She shrugs. "I don't know…a hunch. Also your car and your shiny shoes. You don't look like the type of person who's come for a budget break."

"I came here to find someone," he says.

She looks intrigued and her eyes seem to light up. "Friend? Family?"

"Both. It's complicated," he pauses. "Perhaps you can help?"

Katherine smiles earnestly and stands back up straight. "I won't be of much help. I'm not the best-suited person."

"Because you're new in the area?"

"Maybe. I don't know," she laughs nervously. "It's a long and weird story."

"I've got time," he says with an earnest gaze.

"I…," she begins, scratching the inside of her lower arm. "I woke up in the middle of the woods without any memory. Since it was after the Second Snap, it was assumed that I was one of the dusted. A few bills were put around but nobody came forward. I needed a job and I was told about this place. And voilà."

She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. She is so anxious to avoid eye contact she doesn't notice his eyes are gleaming.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs softly. "It mustn't have been easy."

He knows he has been right to believe it is her all along. His eyes can recognize her anywhere, even when hers don't recognize him back.

"It happens. The sheriff said my relatives probably moved elsewhere during the five-year gap but I doubt it. I think I've always been alone."

He furrows his brows.

"Why?"

She diligently wipes the sink with the sponge. "Because they would have come back for me right after the Second Snap. They would have tried everything in their power to find me."

He wants to reach for her hand and hold it. He wants to pull her in and kiss her ardently for every second he has missed her. He wants her to feel loved and wanted.

"That's why I was a Jane Doe," she finishes, turning back to him with a perfectly crafted smile. "Except Jane was boring, so I went for Katherine instead. Katherine Doe."

"How do you feel about not knowing who you were? You didn't try to go and look for answers yourself?"

She turns her attention back on the pancake pan.

"I don't consider myself unlucky. There are sadder stories — we are all dealing with it in our own ways. I like it here. Maybe I was not much of a traveler in my former life. Maybe I am just where I belong."

She smiles and serves the hot pancakes with syrup and Eliza calls her name upstairs. He watches her leave the kitchen and hers her footsteps on the creaking staircase.

His phone beeps inside his pocket. He takes it out and freezes as he looks at the screen. His eyes fill up with tears and he buries his chin into his palm, as the dripping faucet fills in the silence in the kitchen.

_FINGERPRINT SCAN: 100% MATCH_

"_It has been cleansed and made anew before departing,"_ Red Skulls said and he misunderstood the meaning of the words. Her soul has not departed to another dimension, it had already left Vormir when he got there.

Katherine uses the old red Chevy to go and run some errands. Riley barking outside a couple of hours later informs him that she has returned.

When she steps in with her grocery bag, she seems to shine brighter. He has no doubt that the woman standing here is his teammate, his loyal friend, and the girl he loves.

He clears his throat nervously. "Can we talk?"

She looks at him with a candid smile — he can see how Katherine's smiles are different from Natasha. He can see how her eyes no longer carry the sorrow that haunted Nat's. Her soul is lighter indeed. Relieved. Released from a heavy burden.

"Sure. Do you mind accompanying as I take Riley for a walk?"

He nods. They walk in silence for many minutes until they reach a large lake whose surface glitters under the sunlight. Finding the right words turn out to be more difficult than he thought, regardless of the two hours he had to get prepared.

She is patiently waiting, watching Riley run ahead then back with the same enthusiasm and energy.

"I said before that I came here to find someone," he begins. "And I have found that person. It's you."

He pauses and turns to face her. She eyes him with a puzzled look.

"I know who you are. And I know how you got here."

She probes him for a while and her eyes fill up with tears.

"Your name is Natasha Romanoff and you're an Avenger," he breathes out. "And you are my friend."

Her red hair shines under the warm sunlight.

"Maybe there is confusion. I doubt I'm an Avenger."

He looks at her with an unwavering expression. "You are. And you saved us all. We won because of you. You were never one of the dusted and I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. We were sure we had lost you forever."

She puts her hand over her stomach. "Ok. That is a lot to take in." She looks at her surroundings as if she's feeling it fade away in front of her.

"Why did I wake up here, then?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I don't know."

She insists to know how everything happened. Steve goes through the painful events of Vormir and her noble sacrifice. She listens with great attention and heightened emotions which, he notices, wane shortly after. It seems to him she is bottling up everything and storing it as far away from her as possible.

She says she wants to go back to the house. The whole walk back, she doesn't a word and he watches her with muffled concern out of the corner of his eye. When they make it back inside, she rushes to her room upstairs and stays in there for hours.

When he goes to the dining room for dinner, the meal is ready but she is absent. Eliza says she went to bed early — she seems unaware of the whole situation.

After dinner, he walks past her room and stands there for a minute, hesitant to knock. He respects her decision and goes to his bed with a sullen heart.

The next morning, he finds her playing with Riley outside. She seems to be her lively and carefree self again. He comes out to speak to her.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm ok, I guess."

He nods.

"The arrangements can be made in a matter of hours to go back to the compound."

She stops playing with the dog. "I don't want to go to the compound."

"Of course, I understand. I can book you a hotel if you're not comfortable to—"

"I don't want to go back there," she corrects in a decisive voice.

"But it's your home. I think it will do you good to see everyone and Clint. It will help you remember."

"Well that's the ting," she says. "I don't think I'll remember, and I'm saying this beyond the whole outer space Soul Stone magic involved. I don't want to remember."

He walks down the stairs of the porch. "What? Why?"

She sighs and looks at him. "Look at me. Look at my life. I am nothing like the super spy the world knows. I'm a completely different person. Romanoff…she scares me."

"You're a hero. You died to save half the Universe. We never would have won without you."

"And I some googling and read the files. She has done terrible things," she pauses, "I have done terrible things."

"And you have done everything to make up for it," he defends her. He has witnessed Natasha buy her redemption on too many occasions to let it be overlooked by anyone — even herself. "You worked hard to become a better person."

"Exactly," she retorts. "From what you've told me all I ever wanted was to wipe off the red on my ledger and I paid the price for it to happen. And now it seems the Universe has given me a second chance, a clean slate. So tell me, Rogers, why would I want to go back to battling my old demons? I paid my due and was offered a new start. This is why I woke up here —not in New York— so far away from the avenging world. I'm sure you can see it, too, how it cannot be a coincidence."

It's true — he's been wondering the same thing since he got here.

"We don't know how the Soul stone works," he attempts with a noticeable lack of certainty.

"I deserve peace, now. Call it my retirement," she finishes.

Honking echoes from the path and a tall, dark man with lean figure steps out of the car and beams at her.

"Kate," the man calls her with a wave.

She heads off towards him.

"Natasha," Steve whispers.

She shoots him a hard look. "It's Katherine, now."

She turns around with a flipped expression. She walks up to the man with a serene smile. As she comes up to him, he leans in and plants a kiss on her lips with she receives in a routine way.

Both depart, leaving Steve as his world shatters around him.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve goes back inside the house, feeling dazed, almost staggering. He holds onto the door frame in a sudden surge of finding solid bearings.

He is struck, punched in the guts, by the realization he might have lost Natasha. He wonders if she will ever remember who she is — if the magic of the Stone will ever allow it. But this is nothing compared to the other problematic that she does not want to remember. How can he bring her back if she refuses to go with him? He does not stand a chance if the reasons for her to stay outweigh the reasons for her to leave.

That man could be one of them.

Maybe she has found love.

How do you walk away from love to an unknown, seemingly daunting past?

Maybe he has lost her again. For good.

His mind clouded with all these thoughts assaulting him restlessly, Eliza calls his name from the living room.

"Is Katherine back?" she asks.

He tries to regain composure and walks into the room.

"I've just seen her go with…her friend, I think."

Eliza deciphers the meaning of 'friend'.

"Oh, yes. His name's Jake. He's a good guy," she comments casually. "You might see him around a lot."

Great.

* * *

They arrive back in the house about an hour later. Steve turns to look over his shoulder. Jake is walking slightly behind her, grasping the tips of her fingers as her arm hangs slightly behind her back.

"Eliza, I brought you these. I know how much you love them," he exclaims as he holds up a bunch of wildflowers.

The woman smiles. "Aren't you a charm, Donovan? I see you're eager to win the heart of all the residents of this household."

"Just trying to play it smart," he shrugs with a teasing smile as he hands them over to her.

His body then pivots toward the stranger in the room. Katherine eyes him with a slightly worried expression, Steve can feel. He stands up.

Jake has dark brown hair with faint green eyes. He has a stubble which conceals the outline of his oblong face. His hair is muffled and slightly curly at the ends. He is wearing a casual checked shirt which hangs loosely over his blue jeans. He overall has a scruffy but charming look which blends with their surroundings.

"Steve," he says, holding out his hand.

"Jake," the other answers, mirroring him.

They shake hands in a cordial manner but firm, slightly tainted with an unconscious demonstration of strength.

Jake is everything Katherine could want — he can see it so vividly it's almost blinding. A simple man leading a simple and world-in-danger trouble free kind of life.

He is the soldier who cannot live without a war, and perhaps this suited Natasha Romanoff's lifestyle. But Katherine finds peace alongside a fellow countryman.

Jake is the better choice. _He_ is the obvious choice.

He, though, has already lost.

"Steve is our guest," Eliza says as she replaces the flowers in the vase. "It's his first time in Louisiana."

Jake smiles. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. It doesn't look like it at first but it's a place you grow to love."

Steve answers with a fixed grin.

Katherine steps in and presses a hand on Jake's arm. He glances down at her and nods, taking it as the signal he should now leave.

He waves everybody goodbye and pecks her on the lips — Steve suppresses a quiet groan and gulps down instead.

Jake leaves the house and Katherine goes to the kitchen, serves Eliza some cool lemonade before disappearing into another room in the back of the house.

He hesitates to follow but eventually wanders through the unexplored area of the old mansion. He steps into a bright room with naked walls and windows and almost no furniture. At the center, Katherine is sitting on a stool, facing a canvas. She's holding a worn paintbrush between her small fingers.

She senses his presence before the creaking floor makes her aware of it. She quickly glances over her shoulder then turns to the canvas again. He takes it as permission for him to come forward. He does so, very gently, cautious not to disturb or intrude.

He watches, with growing fascination, how she runs her brush across the canvas with a focused expressed and a deep frown on her forehead. Once she lifts the brush, she lets a breath out and slightly leans back to take a wider look at the picture. She then scratches the top of her temple with the other end of the brush and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I didn't know you could paint," he remarks with a smile.

She dips her brush into the plastic cup filled with water.

"I didn't know either," she answers coolly. "It took many shots and just as many spoiled canvases to get something sort of decent."

He squats down to be at her level and looks at the painting. His eyes wander across the bright shades of purple and copper gnawed on by the dominant dark tones.

"Definitely not gallery material," she continues, "but this is what happens when you have too much time on your hands and no memories to grasp onto. That continuous silence in your mind, that blankness, it's deafening. Painting became a good distraction from it. It keeps my brain busy in a good way. It's soothing."

He watches her tamed expression.

"I get it," he murmurs. "I usually draw sketches when I need to sort out things. But for me, it's when I want to quiet down some loud memories."

She pauses in her painting and turns in his direction. She probes him for a few seconds.

"Looks like you and I are the same in different ways, strangely."

He stares into her eyes like he has many times in the past.

"It's always been like that between us," he says. "We drew similarities in our differences."

She nods musingly. "Maybe this is something worth exploring," she says. "So long as you respect the boundaries I've set."

They gaze at each other and he feels they are having for a moment. For the first time since he got there, he can feel they are reconnecting. Like an old wick rekindling.

The phone rings in the other room. She does not move immediately but is gradually pulled back to reality. She puts the brush down on the table and runs a hand through her hair. She then gets up and rushes out of the room.

Steve looks back at the painting with growing determination. He looks at the dark circle outlined with a dark yellow ring behind the heavy clouds, he looks at the grey dunes standing on the low sea, and the mountain standing ominously in the background.

He has hope again.

Natasha may not be gone, after all. And he can bring her back.

The picture proves it. He has seen the place that she painted before.

He has been there before.

And so has Natasha.

Vormir.

* * *

He is hopeful he can make her remember. All it takes is a little push.

Or well, a series of small pushes.

He decides to start with the people that once mattered to her; maybe putting faces on her unknown past might make it less daunting and more appealing. So he drops names which, he hopes, will trigger her memory.

"Sam would be very impressed with your cooking," he says casually while watching her from the counter.

She frowns. "Who's Sam?"

"He's a friend," he begins, then adds, "he's your friend, too. The three of us lived in motels together for a year."

"Sounds kinky," she comments indifferently, her eyes fixed on the cutting board.

He almost chokes in the lemonade he is sipping and coughs loudly, which brings a little smirk to her lips.

"No, no. Nothing like that! We were fugitives…on the run."

She lifts up the board and drops the slices of vegetables in the boiling water.

"This is so much more reassuring," she says drily with unconcealed sarcasm.

He runs a hand across his forehead and sighs.

The next morning, a neighbor living 5 miles East turns up with fresh milk and cream for his farm. Steve catches his name is George Donovan. A man in his late fifties with a thick southern accent and a prosthetic leg. Once he has dropped the crate, she wraps a couple of cookies in a towel and hands it to him.

"Don't tell Carol I gave you these," she says and kisses his cheek.

The man chuckles. "You know I never do. It's our little secret."

As Steve watches him walk away he cannot help but draw a similarity between the Louisianan farmer and another "father figure" of Natasha. The physical disability is another common trait.

"I don't know what Fury would think of this," he muses aloud. "He's always seen you as his protégée."

She frowns and looks at him. "Fury?"

"Technically he's your boss but you have developed a far stronger bond over the years. He's like a father to you."

Her attention span quickly comes to an end and she starts emptying the crate that was just brought in. He feels like he needs to pique her curiosity.

"He's got an eye patch, by the way. But nobody knows how he got it."

She pauses and looks him dead in the eyes.

"So my mentor was a pirate?" she comments flatly, looking highly unimpressed.

He immediately realizes he has made a mistake. "Well, not exactly. In retrospect, the eye patch is only a detail. You barely notice it."

Perhaps it is the weak counter-argument or the eye patch, but her dubious and perplexed remain plastered over her face.

He tries again after dinner, this time with something that has little to no risk of irking her. This one can't fail, he is sure of it. He walks up to her and puts his phone on the table under her nose. She unenthusiastically looks down at it. Her frown turns into a look of utter confusion.

He smiles encouragingly. "These are Clint's children. The youngest one was named after you: Nathaniel. They care about you. They call you aunt—"

"Kate, you're here?" a voice calls from the entrance. She jumps out of her chair.

Jake appears into the room. "Got my evening free, I thought we could go to town to grab a drink." She smiles.

"I'll go and grab my purse," she calls out while running up the stairs.

Steve has not moved from his spot. He rubs his chin slowly. She comes back a minute later with a subtle scent of perfume trailing behind her.

"Enjoy your afternoon," Jake tells him with a nod. He answers with a silent nod.

She does not say a word, nor looks in his direction. She leads the way to the car.

She comes back later that night — the car lights shone through into his bedroom. He walks up to the window and looks. She walks around the car to the driver's side and pokes her head inside to steal a kiss.

Steve can feel her slip away almost completely.

The next morning after breakfast, Eliza goes out to read on the porch. Katherine is the kitchen, washing the dishes. He is staring at his empty mug. Steve has been sulking all morning and it isn't like she made any effort to engage a conversation either. It used to be so easy for both of them. Even their silences were intimate and clear conversations.

He has an idea. While she is wiping the kitchen counter, his fingers slowly push the mug over to the edge until it falls off. Her eyes flicker immediately to it and she leans over before she catches it in midair. She slowly stands back straight, staring at the object in her hand. And then her eyes slowly rise to look at him.

He is looking at her with a calm, but triumphant look.

"You say you're no longer Natasha but your instincts don't lie," he begins. "This is who you are. It's in your nature."

Her stunned expression hardens. She clenches the mug.

"You're wrong. I am nothing like Romanoff. She's gone, okay? " she says. "You have to stop whatever it is you've been trying to do the past few days. She's gone. Romanoff is gone, and she's never coming back. Saying being an assassin is in my nature will not bring her back, ok?"

His eyes widen. "That's not what you were. You were an Avenger."

"…with skills intended to be lethal and inflict pain," she finishes. "I don't want to have anything to do with that. I love my life here and nothing that you tell me will ever change that, not even your attempt to guilt-trip me with pictures of children I don't even know. I don't know any of those people you keep referring to. This is all forever gone."

She starts walking away.

"You do have memories," he says. "That place you painted, it's real. You've been there before, and it's the reason why you painted it. It means you can remember."

She turns around to face him and her features are tense. He soon notices her glassy eyes.

"That place is what my worst nightmares are made of. It would keep me awake at night until I started painting it. Now I know why, and it only confirms my old life is a terrible thing to remember."

She walks up closer to him. "I told you I don't want to go back to New York but you didn't listen. Clearly, I'm not the one who needs to move on. You've found me and you know I'm fine. Now you need to leave."

His throat tightens. She remains steadfast and imperturbable. "I want you gone by tomorrow."

And with that, she walks away.


	4. Chapter 4

His phone screen shows half a dozen missed calls and twice as many texts. Mostly from Sam and Bucky, but also from other fellow teammates.

Sitting on the bed of his room, Steve is bent over, his elbows resting on each thigh, hands joined together in a fist with his chin resting upon it. He hasn't given real news since he left the compound four days ago, or only vague ones to avoid causing any worries.

He was hoping to call — or even better, turn up to New York with Natasha — but the situation has become complicated. He is not sure how to bring her up, or he should at all considering how she has made it a point never to return to that life and that she has just kicked him out of her new one. Involving the whole team would just stir more tension; but then he owes them the truth, too.

His phone buzzes — it's Sam calling in for the third time in the past hour. He answers the phone but Wilson immediately picks up something is wrong. But is something wrong, really? It should quite the opposite. Natasha is alive — that should be enough to make him happy. And as much solace he finds in the thought that she is alive, he cannot ignore his heartache right now.

Steve yields and tells Sam the truth. He explains the reason for his sudden departure and debriefs the current situation. Sam is stunned.

"Want me to come?" his friend says but it isn't a real question. Steve can hear how his voice is slightly shaking with emotion — he's missed her, too.

"Not now. She's not ready — and I don't know if she ever will. We need to respect that."

A few seconds go by before Sam agrees to the terms.

"Do you want me to call Barton and let him know about the situation."

Steve frowns. "No," he says, shaking his head. Clint has mourned her and he has started to move on — maybe keeping him away from all this, for now, is for the best. "No. I think it's better if we wait for now."

The conversation somehow veers off to more trivial matters, mostly related to the Avengers. But only briefly. At the end of the conversation, Sam asks:

"How is she?"

Steve nods slowly. "She's well. I think she's happy."

It is a blissful thought. One he could live on for the rest of his life and that would ease the void inside him if he were to leave this place without her.

"Well, I'm glad," Sam echoes his thoughts wistfully, then he adds. "Steve, I'm sure you'll work this out."

But he is not so sure about that. Nodding silently to himself, he hangs up.

Dinner is cold — and it is not the food — the three of them eat silently in the dining room. Katherine started it off, Steve could not do much about it and kept his tail between the legs, and Eliza had no choice than to adjust. Katherine keeps her eyes on her plate, sometimes throws a glimpse at the elderly woman, but they wander farther across the table.

Once the meal is over, she gets up to wash the dishes, before excusing herself and disappearing upstairs. He tries to make eye contact with her as she swings past him without success.

Eliza is probing him but he has not noticed, his eyes fall back down to the floor.

"You know her, don't you?" she eventually says. "You knew her from before."

He is startled and looks across at her with a deep frown. "The way you look at her…it certainly is not like someone who met her three days ago. More like you've known her for years."

There is no point denying it.

"She was my friend."

Eliza furrows her brows, slightly surprised.

"Friend isn't what I had in mind," she comments.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. She moved on. She's made it clear she doesn't want me in her life."

"She doesn't want you in her life or did you not make your place in it?"

He looks at her quizzically.

"If you allow me an analogy," she begins. "Being amnesic does not mean she is shapeless; it means she has taken a different one. You can't mold her, you can only learn to know the new her."

"You do pottery?" he asks with an arched eyebrow.

Eliza smiles. "Tried it years ago but dropped out of class after three weeks."

He snorts quietly then turns pensive again. "I think it's too late," he says softly. "I don't think she'll let me stay."

The woman's eyes light up and she smirks. "There's nothing that can't be fixed."

A loose board from the parquet flooring squeaks under his foot. His eyes suddenly to the entrance door and the frown on his face disappears.

Katherine comes back an hour later, finding him and Eliza conversing over a glass of lemonade.

"Oh Katherine," Eliza calls as she catches sight of her. "I have some good news. It looks like we may have found a handyman."

She puts her purse down in the touch and approaches cautiously. She pretends to ignore Steve's presence.

"Great. Who?" she asks.

Eliza glances over at her guest. "Steve said he's interested in the job."

Katherine furrows her brow.

"What a surprise," she comments with a dubious expression. "Because Steve is supposed to check out today."

She shoots him a long and penetrating look — not the friendly kind.

"I can stay," he assures. "I think spending some time here might do me good."

She crosses her arms and her body turns completely in his direction, leaving Eliza out of the equation.

"But you were so eager to get back to New York just this morning," she reminds him dryly with an arched eyebrow.

"Katherine dear, we urgently need someone to mend the plumbing."

"We need someone with experience. I doubt the wrench is his weapon of choice," she answers to Eliza, but really, she said to Steve.

"As if we had a list of candidates," Eliza chuckles. "The ad has been out for weeks and we didn't have a single call."

She is now frowning deeply. She eyes Steve with a perplexed expression and a slightly worried look. It is brief, but long enough for him to notice it. He has known her long enough to recognize any shadow of emotion that passes through them. It does not leave him different him — worse, it troubles him.

She disappears into another room without protesting longer but he cannot her silence for victory.

The last thing he wants is to be a cause of worry for her.

So he goes to find her in the backyard as she tidying up old crates and boxes. She pauses upon seeing him then resumes her work.

"I'm sorry," he begins. She throws a glimpse in his direction and walks over to pick up more boxes. He leans against the corner of the house façade. "You were right. You set boundaries and I overstepped. I was just so…," he sighs and looks at her. "I just wanted you back so badly that I overlooked what you wanted. But I can see you're happy here, and I shouldn't have been so selfish and tried to change that."

She is looking at him at him, and he pauses. Her intense gaze somehow strips him off his ability to speak. He clears his throat and quickly glances away. "That's why I'd like to stay. I want to know about you — about the new you — and about your life. Maybe get you to like me: I promise you I'm usually not such a dick. I just…I got blinded by my emotions. I want to make it up to you, now."

"I don't know if I want to engage on that path. I don't want to wonder if I'm living up to the expectations of whatever strong relationship you had with Natasha."

"And you don't have to," he steps off the distant corner, coming closer. "I'm given this second chance and I don't want to blow it. I can't."

He is suddenly caught up by the memory of his crying on his knees on Vormir. "But I want to do everything right this time. I won't take the job if you don't want me to. But don't cross me out of your life completely, please. Katherine…," he whispers softly and realizes it is the first time he says it aloud. She looks at him with a surprised expression. It feels unexpectedly pleasant on his tongue. "Allow me to stay and be your handyman, an acquaintance that visits you from time to time, a partner, your l—," he stops and swallows the lump in his throat. "I'll be anything you want me to be and I promise you I will fill whichever role you choose without ever crossing the line. As long as I don't lose you again. But I cannot go on with my life with that empty space next to me. I tried and I failed miserably."

His hand instinctively goes up to cup her face without him realizing. She holds back her breath and glances down at it, before gazing into his eyes again. "Just tell me who you want me to be," he murmurs.

Everything has disappeared: the mansion, Louisiana, the Avengers, his duty, even Jake. God, he truly wishes the latter has vanished into the abyss of oblivion.

But alas… Katherine reaches up, lays her hand on top of his and slowly pulls away. She smiles a genuine smile he has not seen since he turned up for the first time a few days ago.

"How about a friend?" she asks.

He reminisces an old conversation in a stolen car. It almost feels like old time.

Almost.

He closes his fist and lets her move away before lowering his arm.

"Looks like we have a deal," he answers with a smile.

She does not recognize the shadow of wistfulness which passes through in his eyes.

She then bends down, picks up a couple of crates and drops them in his hands.

"Welcome to Miller's Guesthouse," Katherine says with a smirk.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're gonna work as a what?" Sam exclaims on their video call with unconcealed bafflement.

Steve rolls his eyes. "She gave me a second chance, Sam. I can't blow it."

"But are you sure you got this?" his friend asks, slightly worried.

He shrugs. "Sure. I mean, I did some housework in my apartment after moving to DC."

Silence follows. "Steve, you assembled a bookcase using the instructions guide. That hardly counts as housework."

"Well, there are still online tutorials," Bucky chimes in behind his shoulder.

Sam turns to shoot him a dark glare.

"Thanks Buck for your input," Wilson answers to him dryly. "It's always useful when you remind me what the modern world _I_ have grown up in has to offer."

Then he turns to face the phone again.

"What about the team?" he asks.

Steve nods. "Since Thanos things have been different. I'm not really needed. You take the lead, Sam — I trust you. And if something comes up just give me a call and of course I'll help."

His eyes glance over to his best friend. "You guys got this," he says assertively. "Let's say I'm on an indefinite break."

Sam frowns while Bucky nods calmly.

"Is that what we should tell the others?" Sam asks.

"For now."

Going downstairs, Steve finds Eliza reading through papers at the dining room table. She smiles and takes her glasses off as he sits down.

"I am no longer used to dealing with all the paperwork — Katherine just handles it for me."

"Nothing bad, I hope?" he asks.

Eliza shakes her head and smiles. "Just the usual billing and other mundane admin papers."

She puts them away and looks at him closely.

"I didn't think you would take my advice of fixing things with Katherine so literally," she comments with a little smirk.

He snorts. "Well, I'm a very literal person."

She probes him quietly. "No, you're not," she says. "So about the job…"

"He shakes his head "I'm not asking for any money. Your hospitality is more than enough."

Eliza leans back on her chair. "Looks like you've thought it all through. But it wouldn't honest of me to have you do all this housework without paying you."

"I assure you, that it's perfectly fine by me. I'm not here for the money."

"Oh, that I am aware," Eliza comments knowingly.

"If I may ask," he begins. "Why are you helping me?"

The woman eyes him attentively. "I want what's best for Katherine and I feel you sticking around is what she needs. Besides, it's a pretty quiet place — nothing exciting ever happens around here. I could use some entertainment."

Katherine appears at the door, outside on the porch. Jake has just driven her home, he kisses her on the cheek — Steve stiffens slightly— and waves at Eliza who nods back.

"Yeah. I definitely look forward to seeing how this all plays out," the woman whispers.

A cheeky smile comes to her lips then she puts her glasses back on.

* * *

The first housework turns out to be more arduous than he had predicted. Handling tools does not come as naturally as yielding the shield or Mjolnir did.

He works all day, has dinner with Katherine and Eliza in the evening, then when he goes to bed, he watches video tutorials and diligently takes notes.

Eliza did not lie: the house was in desperate need of maintenance. Most of the flooring needs fixing and the dull paint and wallpapers need a glow-up, and that is without mentioning the plumbing or the outside. As different a life as it is to avenging, he quickly grows to appreciate this new routine. The physical exhaustion at the end of the day is different but he likes the tranquility of this new lifestyle.

Days go by and things have already begun to feel different. He asked Sam to have his car collected and brought back to the compound. As for clothing, he stopped by a store while running errands for equipment. The style has changed quite noticeably: he has traded the shiny shoes for leather boots and most of his urban outfits have been replaced with more practical ones; mostly T-shirts and jeans.

On a sunny afternoon, he is working on the roof, replacing some loose tiles. Katherine suddenly appears on the yard, Riley following close behind with her wailing tail. Katherine looks up and smiles.

"Everything all right, up there?" she asks.

He takes his eyes off of the tiles and breathes out. "Yeah, all good."

She is smiling. "So…," she begins. "If you fall off you can just fly, right?"

He snorts while running a hand over his sweaty hairline. "I don't do that."

She pouts. "I know. That's my point." She then puts a hand up to her forehead to shield herself from the sun and smiles at him.

She is teasing him and he likes it. It almost feels like old times.

"Well if you need a break, there's iced tea ready."

And she disappears under the roof.

He holds the hammer and to hit the nail into the nail. He sinks the nail, and half of the hammer, too.

He sighs. It will take practice and time before he comes to grips with all this.

* * *

Katherine brings Eliza her daily pills with a glass water, then after an hour of tidying up goes to do some painting. Steve is in there too, covering the walls with a light shade of mauve.

Standing on a stepladder, he stops when he sees her walk in. He begins to come down to leave the room and give her her privacy but she tells him he can stay. He picks up his brush again and resumes painting the wall.

She is mixing colors on her palette but he doesn't notice the few peeks she casts in his direction. She doesn't notice how his body has slightly stiffened as he tries to remain focused on his work.

She eventually turns her attention back on what she is doing and dips her small brush into the paint.

"So what do you draw?" she eventually asks from where she is sitting in the middle of the room.

It takes him by surprise. He finally allows his body to pivot so he can look at her. She is sitting on her stool in the middle room, wearing high-waisted loose blue jeans cuffed up above her ankles with a slightly cropped cotton striped top revealing the rim of her pants and a bit of her skin. Her hair is down her shoulders with a natural wavy aspect.

"It depends," he says, resuming his work. "It can be pretty much anything."

"Sounds nice," she says musingly but genuine interest. "Maybe someday you could show me your sketches."

He pauses and glances at her. "I haven't drawn in a while."

Her green eyes gaze at him over the canvas. "Why not?"

He tries to recall the last time he wandered into a sketch. It was on one of the early days during their fugitive period. They had been sitting in a car on an isolated road for hours while waiting for Sam to come back with food and other supplies. Natasha was in the driver's seat, alert and surveying their surroundings she always did. He was in the seat next to her, doodling on the back of a paper, head down.

"Do you think I should dye my hair?" she asked out of the blue.

"Why? Your hair's perfect," he commented matter-of-factly, absorbed in his task.

"I know. But red is kinda eye-catchy. Besides, you're not the only one allowed to have an in-the-run makeover with that stubble of yours."

"…Which I intend to let grow into a full beard by the way," he finishes coolly, eyes fixed on the paper.

"Yeah well, my point is…if I blended in more easily, I could go and run the errands myself. I'd know what to get us. And I'd be faster, too."

She glanced at the dial clock on her dashboard and sighed. She leaned her head back on the headrest and gazed at him.

"Clearly you're handling boredom better than I am."

"You should try sketching," he said.

"Uh-uh," she shook her head. "I can't afford to let my mind wander into drawing. It would mean I would have to let my guard down."

He looked up at her. "Yeah, I know the feeling," he said.

"Except your guard's down now."

He closed his hand around the pencil and gazed at her.

"Only because I know you're watching my six."

She looked numbly at him for a short moment and he smiled at her. He folded the paper and put it in the glove compartment along with the pen.

"When you're ready to swap the roles around I'll be there to share some drawing tips."

Natasha snorted then both resumed surveilling the area.

The old memory floods back accompanied with a feeling of wistfulness it didn't have then. But although he can only sadly realize Natasha never allowed herself to let her guard down (because she never had the luxury to), he notes Katherine has reached that place where she never has to have her guard up.

"Circumstances didn't allow it…until I completely fell out of the habit."

Katherine looks at him musingly. She seems to understand what he kept implicit.

"Louisiana might work its magic on you eventually. Just wait and see," she says.

All he hears is how she is open to him ticking around for a while. He smiles to himself as he dips the brush into the pot; she mirrors him then both resume their painting.

A couple of hours later filled with many long conversations, the familiar voice of Jake rings out in the other room.

She turns to look at Steve with a nervous wince.

"Does he know?" Steve asks.

"I'd rather stay anonymous as long as possible," she answers.

He understands she hasn't told Jake who he is and why he is here.

"Ok," he whispers. Just then Jake walks into the room.

He walks up to her, wraps his arms around her from behind and plants a kiss into her neck.

"You've got paint," he comments.

"Where?"

Jake dips a finger into some liquid and pokes the tip of her nose with it. They both laugh.

Jake eventually looks up and notices Steve standing on the stepladder across the room. He frowns in surprise.

"Wow," he comments with a frown. "I didn't think you'd still be around…"

She gets up and wipes her nose with a piece of cloth.

"Steve is our new handyman," she says.

Jake eyes him quietly for a couple of seconds then finally musters a response. "Awesome," he exclaims with a smile and it fades away soon after. "Careful the amount of work doesn't discourage you."

Steve climbs down the stepladder.

"I'm not the quitter type," he answers, watching him with a great deal of self-assurance.

Jake rubs the back of his neck, then forces a laugh. Steve's look doesn't waver.

"Kate, do you mind if I join you for dinner?" he asks. He reaches over to hold her hand.

"Tonight?" Katherine arches an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I haven't seen you all week."

She pauses, slightly surprised by this unexpected self-invitation.

"I'm sure Eliza won't mind."

"Great. See you tonight, then." He murmurs then pecks her lips.

He waves at Steve. "Good luck."

Dinner is almost ready. All three of them are gathered in the living room, and Eliza has been noticeably zealous since she found out Jake would be joining.

The engine of his car eventually thrums in the yard and he comes inside.

Eliza sits at the head of the table, Jake next to Katherine. Steve unhurriedly joins to sit across from them. Soon, dinner begins.

"You look kinda familiar. What did you do before coming here?" Jake asks.

Katherine glances over at him with a slightly concerned expression.

"I ran a company," he answers casually. If leading the Avengers can be seen as such. "Lots of traveling." Including on space ships and through time.

Jake nods, keeping a poker face to conceal he is impressed. "And you just stopped?"

"Things were rough for a few years but now that it's come back to normal I thought it was the right time to have some indefinite vacation."

"Must be a real change, though. I heard it's very difficult to hang it up and pass the mantle. It's the kind of life you have in your blood."

"Yeah, the pace sure is different around here," he says, and his eyes shift to look at Katherine who is staring back at him. "But I'm liking it."

His eyes then flicker back to the man sitting next to her, with his arm draped over her backrest.

"And you, what do you do?" he asks.

"I work in a farm 15 miles South. I'm hoping to buy my own house soon. Maybe have a few horses," he adds, squeezing her shoulders and she laughs.

Steve looks at them quizzically.

"Kate here loves horseback riding," Jake clarifies. "And she's great at it. But what isn't she good at, right?"

"It's just a hobby I took up," she explains dismissively with a sheepish grin.

"She goes to the Dawson's who own a stable from time and time."

Steve had no idea she liked or did horseback riding. At least, he knows for a fact Natasha didn't. It is one of Katherine's new interests.

As different from the woman she once was, he enjoys discovering these new little things about her.

At the end of dinner, Katherine gets up to pick up the dishes. Steve stands up to help but Jake has already beaten him to it. He takes them all to the kitchen and spends the next 15 minutes with her in the kitchen to assist her with the washing and wipe the wet plates she hands over to him. Steve watches them from the dining room, given no choice but to acknowledge the obvious affinity between them.

One yet so different from the one he had with Natasha. While the latter was more implicit, synchronous and unostentatious, theirs was more conspicuous and boisterous.

Two different types of energy, but both as genuine and earnest.

Steve gets up and takes Riley out for a walk. The dog was the first to warm up to him. She sometimes waits outside his bedroom door for a morning jog in the woods.

After a sullen stroll along the lake, he comes back to the house. Jake and Katherine are saying good night at the door, then he steps out on the porch.

Riley runs up to him, walks around him to quickly collect a stroke then runs back to Steve and stands by his side. Jake comes down the stairs toward him.

He shakes his hand.

"Well, it was nice to have a proper chat. I guess I'll see you around a lot, huh?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve replies, shaking back.

Jake smirks. "Great. Me neither."

And he gets in his car.

The next day a couple checks in for the weekend, people in their late forties on a short getaway from Mississippi. Steve deems it best not to make himself visible to minimize the chances of getting recognized. So far, he has been lucky not to pique the locals' curiosity, the main reason being the guesthouse is quite isolated and the majority of the people living in the area are more or less old and prefer radio as a medium than the internet or television.

So he spends most of the day working outside. The porch has all his attention at the moment. He has already replaced half of the railings and has moved on to smooth the surface with sandpaper.

It is such a hot day he had to take off his shirt and work in a grey tank top. His arms and chest are glistening with sweat.

Eliza is sitting in the shadow, chatting away.

"I've never been to New York. Robert was always scared of flying," she says with a chuckle. She readjusts the blanket under her. "We should replace this agonizing bench with a swing with a proper, thick mattress."

He nods. "I'll look for one next time I go to town."

Katherine comes through the door, carrying a tray with refreshments. She slowly puts it down the round table, pours Eliza a glass and brings over to the elderly lady. She is staring at Steve the whole time. He turns and smiles at her before getting back to work again. Suddenly hit by a wave of heat, Katherine pours herself a glass and absent-mindedly gulps down a sip from it while taking on sight in front of her.

"Katherine, you might want to pick up your jaw from the floor," she hears Eliza say.

The words irk her and she stiffens and flips her neck to look at her. The elderly woman is smirking cockily, eyes fixed on Steve working.

Katherine arches an eyebrow. "After you, Eliza."

And she goes back inside the house.

After the guests' departure, Eliza calls it a day off and asks to go on a picnic. Katherine prepares sandwiches and wraps the fresh muffins while he packs up all the blankets.

They spend the afternoon at the lake. Riley spends half the time trying to catch frogs; she spends the other half asking for more food. Eventually, she lies down to nap next to Eliza whose back is leaning on the old oak tree.

Katherine and Steve walk down the wooden pier nearby. She sits down, takes her shoes, rolls up her skirt above the knees and gently dips her feet into the cool water. He does the same after pulling his jeans to half his calves.

They both watch the circles their feet make spread indefinitely over the water. She slowly raises her foot out of the water and looks at the drops of water roll down to her toes and eventually fall into the water.

"Thank you," she says while staring into space. She then turns to look at him. "For not saying anything to Jake."

He nods with a slightly clenched jaw. "Sure."

She smiles and resumes looking at the scenery.

"So Jake…he makes you happy?"

She bites her bottom lip, pensive.

"I think so. He's the first person I met after Eliza. He's the person who knows me the best."

He feels his chest tighten as he takes that punch. He smiles sadly to himself; it seems he will always be too late.

"I'm happy for you, Katherine. I really am."

She doesn't need to know about the part where he is unhappy, because it is secondary.

A bird chirps in the tree behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

Another week has gone by and the guesthouse welcomed three European youngsters who, reunited after the Second Snap, decided to enjoy life to the fullest and hitchhike across the country, westward. They only stayed for 2 nights to explore the area before going on to resume the "biggest adventure of their life" right after breakfast.

The regular viewing of YouTube tutorials and other videos have begun to pay off. He has officially finished replacing the porch railings and has hung the new swing to the ceiling.

He is now giving the wooden flooring a makeover, room after room.

But the mansion is not the only thing that has been getting a glow up. His relationship with Katherine has improved quite significantly and it seems their bumpy start is forgotten, and remote memory. Katherine likes banters — unsurprisingly— and, like riding a bike, it comes back effortlessly to him.

He has an early night as Katherine went on a date just before dessert. He has a video call with Bucky and Sam for a light report of the situation in the compound — pretty quiet, so far. Just a few incidents that only required the intervention of a few members at a time. They always end up asking about Natasha and his new lifestyle. He answers it's going well. He has already introduced Riley to them. Sam snorts and says he might grow fond of Louisiana; Bucky's grin is barely perceptible, however.

By 11 pm he eventually sends Riley out of the room and turns off the light, before drifting off to sleep. He is woken up by muffled sounds from the lower floor. His old reflexes make him immediately alert. He glances over at the clock: almost 1 am.

He gets on his feet, cracks the door open and peers through. Down the dark hallway, he sees Katherine's silhouette emerge up the stairway. She is giddy and upbeat, her arm stretched up behind her. She twirls around and pulls someone — Jake is climbing up the last steps. He leans in to kiss her and she giggles against his lips. Steve feels his chest tighten.

Jake is about to say something but she presses her finger against his mouth and chuckles quietly. She bends over and takes off her heels to avoid making any noises while Jake wraps his arms around her waist and begins to plant a trail of heated kisses under her lobe, then down her neck. She slightly arches her back against his body, letting out a silent moan. His heart is pounding so loud inside his chest it begins to hurt while watching the scene. She tiptoes to her bedroom door and opens it, Jake clung to her like a leech that needs to be squished. His hands come down to her waist and flip around, pinning her tight against him. Katherine smiles, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

He closes his door before he can see them disappear inside her bedroom. His main remained long clenched around the knob.

It has been several minutes now. Steve is sitting sullenly on the parquet, leaning against his bedframe, his back crouched over. Music is playing loudly through his headphones but he is not listening. After hearing the first few masculine moans, it took away any chance he had to find sleep again; so he grabbed his headphones and quickly put them on his ear to block any parasite sound out. To block the painful reality. His elbows are propped against his bent knees, hands clasped tightly together while he is looking down at the rug under him. But although his ears can only pick up the music, he can hear them. And along with it, a torrent of painful thoughts come bursting through, clouding his mind, haunting him.

After a few minutes of a relentless mental battle, he gets up and leaves the room, rushing outside for a clear environment. The front yard is plunged in the light of the full moon hanging in the cloudless sky.

The air becomes more breathable, the atmosphere less heavy. He slumps into the porch swing and stares into space. It is silent all around, the scenery anxious to quiet down the emotional turmoil inside him.

An hour goes by and his distress has made way for morose acceptance. Deep in thought, he doesn't hear the main door swing open. To his surprise, he sees Katherine come on the porch, dressed in nothing but a thin cotton robe, hair down, holding a mug filled with hot liquid. She turns and is surprised to find him there. She glances down at herself, suddenly aware of her flimsy attire. Her hand goes up to her chest and she gently pulls the rims of her robe closer together.

He has never seen her so lightly dressed, not even during their time on the run. Obviously, his mouth has slightly gone dry and it takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts.

"Do you mind if I join?" she asks. He shakes his head no.

She walks over and sits down next to him and folds her athletic, bare legs under her.

"Jake fell asleep but I couldn't drift off. Thought some herbal tea and the crickets chirping could help," she explains in a gentle voice, before blowing into her mug and taking a sip. If he had her, he thinks, he would never let her leave his arms. "Why are you out here?" she continues.

He is gazing at her. He blinks then shrugs dismissively. "Just couldn't sleep."

They both look up at the star sky, silent. He finds peace in her physical proximity, feeling her arm slightly brushing against his.

"It's…beautiful," he eventually speaks.

"Yeah. It's kept me occupied many nights," she muses aloud, gazing skyward.

He frowns. "Your nightmare? You've had it often?"

"Yeah, I guess. Amnesia fills your nights with senseless dreams, and not knowing makes them sleepless."

He sees the flimsy veil of melancholy fall over her face.

"When I woke up in this new time," he begins, "I felt stuck. Couldn't go back, couldn't move on. I would have many dreams where I would watch myself sink into nothingness from standing still."

He never told Natasha — he never told anyone — and now he's just told Katherine.

She looks sympathetically at him; she feels him.

"So how long were you in the ice for?" she asks.

He realizes it is the first time she shows interest in his un-normal past.

"I went into the ice in 1944. Woke up in 2011."

She slowly takes in the information, processing it. Then the corner of her mouth curls up.

"So you're over 100 years old? I bet I must have made a thousand jokes about it."

He snorts. "You never did. It never even crossed your mind — it made my acclimatization to the new century far easier."

She is laughing along with him.

"You're a terrible liar," she remarks.

His chuckles die out and he looks at her musingly. "You told me that once…when we were still getting to know each other."

She eyes him, a little surprised, but not as baffled as him. "You've always been very perceptive," he finishes.

"Or you're just very easy to read," she says with a grin, before taking another sip.

When her tea turns cold, she leans over to put the mug down on the table, and using the foot she has just put down to the floor, gives them a push to make the swing move.

"It's holding up!" she exclaims softly. "You've done a good job."

She gives a harder push and the canopy swings up.

"Ok, let's not push my luck," he warns. She looks up at him with a large smile plastered across the face.

They keep giggling for a little more until the swing significantly slows down. Katherine folds her legs up again and tries to drape her arm over her bare lap to shield it from the air that has cooled down a little. He pulls the throw rolled up on his side and unfolds it. He gently spreads it over her lap, attentive not to make any physical contact which could make her uncomfortable.

"Don't you miss them?" she says. "Your teammates — your friends? Don't you regret giving up everything to stay here."

"No," he answers simply. "Many times over you gave up everything to stay with me."

She furrows her brows and goes dead silent. "I find it difficult to bond with her…I mean who I was. But I'm glad you stayed. It's been good having you around here and getting to know you."

He smiles softly, looking into her eyes before they divert in another direction. Her face lights up with excitement.

"What were the 40s like?" she asks. "I mean, it's not every day you can meet a contemporary of Clark Gable. For the record, he was Eliza's mother's childhood heartthrob. How about the Wall Street Crash? Do you remember where you were on Black Tuesday?"

"Ok, first of all I know you just made that up," he protests, rolling his eyes. "Secondly, I was too young to recall Black Tuesday."

A smirk tugs at her lips.

"What's one of your best memories from that time?" she asks.

His mind traverses time to old — forsaken— memories, buried deep down.

"My best friend Bucky, back from his first tour, and I went to the premiere of _Casablanca_. Bucky thought he was Humphrey Bogart and I had a crush on Ingrid Bergman. She somehow caught sight of me in the big crowd, squeezed between tall, strong men and signed an autograph for me. She was stunning. Needless to say, _Casablanca_ was my favorite movie," he reminisces with a fond smile. He feels her fixed gaze on him, then his eyes fall back on her. "_Here's looking at you, kid._"

She smiles and leans her head back on the cushion. "It's a sweet story. Tell me more."

He hasn't talked about the past in so long and it seems this night is perfectly suited for it. They talk for minutes that progressively morph into hours. Jake is upstairs but he relishes the fact he has had her all for himself all through the night.

The blue of the night slowly begins to lose its depth, and the first rim rays of light foretell the arrival of dawn. She pulls the throw away and gets on her feet. She picks up her mug and makes her to the door.

"Kat," he calls, and the nickname sounds natural, uncannily familiar. Her eyes dart to him and smiles. She likes it, too. "It was nice talking to you. It felt both new and familiar."

She nods and walks inside. Her head pokes out and she flashes a smirk. "_We'll always have, Paris_," she quotes. Then she disappears inside.

He presses his hand on the empty spot next to him, feeling the warmth of the space she filled all night.

* * *

Katherine is preparing breakfast, Eliza is seated at the kitchen counter, reading the paper. She puts it down as she notices the apparent groggy expression on Katherine's face. She sees the dark circles, too.

"Are you alright, dear?" Eliza asks.

"I barely slept last night."

Just then Jake comes down the stairs, blows a kiss in his girlfriend's direction and shoots off. The elderly woman's eyes suspiciously wander from the door to her. Katherine furrows her brows, reading the woman's expressions.

"Nothing like that," she huffs while mixing the ingredients for the waffles. "I was out on the porch with Steve until daybreak."

Eliza couldn't have looked more intrigued even if she tried. She eyes her up and down with newly-found admiration.

"You spent the night with two men? Dear, aren't you full of stamina?" she exclaims mischievously with a cocked eyebrow while Katherine rolls her eyes. "I'm not judging — quite the contrary. It reminds me of my young years…"

"Eliza!" Her mouth takes the shape of an O.

The woman eyes her curiously. "What? 1968, Bob Dylan's music, Woodstock…these brought some of the most thrilling moments of my life. You'll have all the time you need to rest when you get older."

Katherine snorts. "You are unbelievable. All we did was talk."

Eliza rolls her eyes and lifts her newspaper to eye level. "Then you're even more foolish if you didn't jump on the occasion. I wouldn't think twice about it if I were your age."

"No offense Liz, but aren't you past the age?" she frowns.

"As long as I have working eyes I am allowed to use them. I mean, have you checked out his…" Katherine's eyes open wide in apprehension, fearing the worst. "…posterior?"

She eyes her closely, actually waiting for an answer.

"No, I haven't. Why, have you?"

Eliza snorts. "Oh please, no hypocrisy between us!"

"Well unlike you I have better things to do than check out people's derriere."

"In my defense, I didn't look for it. He simply walked into the room and it leapt to the eye so that I had no choice but to acknowledge it."

Katherine props her elbow on the kitchen counter, eyes the woman and sighs. "We're done with this conversation."

During breakfast as Steve stands at the counter, sipping his coffee, Katherine walks over to the table, and as she does so, her eyes discreetly aim slightly lower than they normally would and linger on the area discussed at length fifteen more earlier. Eliza is sitting on the chair, waiting with mischievous expression. Both women smile at each other knowingly.

* * *

Steve has just finished painting the first layer of the yard railings. He is now cutting wood while Eliza is sipping a cool drink on the new porch swing.

"Things are starting to look lovely," she comments. "Please know I am thankful for your hard work." He smiles. After a pause, she grins smugly. "I guess I couldn't expect less from Captain America himself."

He turns around and both exchange a long, meaningful look. He walks up to the railings and looks at her with a grin.

"When did you realize?" he asks very serenely.

She eyes him very appreciatively. "Thank you for not simply assuming Katherine told me."

"I would never dare underestimate your perspicacity, Eliza."

"I've known for a while," she answers his question. "And it didn't take long to work out Katherine's former identity."

"She doesn't want that life anymore," he says.

"Which I can understand. She may not have realized it yet but she needed to know who she was to decide who she wants to be."

A familiar car emerges around the path with a honk and pulls over. Jake comes out of it and makes his way to the porch. He greets them both with a smile before leaning towards the freshly-painted railings. Steve watches him without twitching as the man presses himself against it.

"I'm here to pick up Kate," he says, completely unaware of the situation. After a couple of minutes of small talks, he props his hand on the handrails and frowns as he looks down at his palm covered in paint. He hastily steps away and inspects the damage made on his shirt.

"Shoot. Hadn't realized that wasn't dry yet," Steve comments coolly, a small smirk almost tugging at his lips.

Katherine swings through the door, holding her purse, and both head to the car.

Steve is watching until a slurping sound rings out just behind him. He turns around and sees Eliza sipping her drink with a twinkle in the eye.


	7. Chapter 7

One day Steve is working behind the house, sorting out old furniture and gardening equipment. Farther away, close to an oak tree, he catches sight of a gravestone, rather new and carefully maintained amidst the unkempt meadow.

He pus down the boxes and walks over to it. There are three-day-old white lilies lying on the top edge, and a small pot of flowers on each side. Standing in front of it, he reads the epitaph on the marble stone: "Robert Miller — Beloved Husband".

Small footsteps make the grass rustle behind him. Katherine is standing by his side with a stern expression. He stands still while feeling her presence, always perceptible and adequate.

"Eliza was among the Dusted," she begins, gazing at the grave. "Her husband waited for her. He never left the house, not a single day, hoping that someday she would return. They don't have any children. Only this mansion, and Riley. He died 8 months before the Second Snap."

His jaw clenches and he feels a slight lump in the throat. He heard many sad stories when he ran the therapy group during the five-year period, but this one affects him particularly. Perhaps because he has grown fond of Eliza; perhaps because her sad story isn't so different from his. He understands why Katherine said there were many sadder stories.

"When Eliza came back to this empty mansion, she thought it would be good to make it a guesthouse, fill it with life and company after it was silent and empty for so long."

Her eyes shift to look at him and she notices the hurt on his face, the compassion in his eyes. And it leaves her stunned.

* * *

A couple of days later, on a bright but mild day as he is finishing painting the last layer on the porch railings, Katherine steps out of the house. She stands in the middle of the porch and smiles at him. She is wearing black jeans with a long-sleeved top.

"Just had a talk with Eliza. I told her you had your afternoon free."

He puts the pot of paint down on the square of fabric on the ground to avoid stains. "We're going somewhere?"

Her smile widens and her head nods in the direction of the Chevy. "Just come and find out."

And they get in the car.

After a ten-minute drive, they reach a big property with the airs of a ranch. Shortly after stepping out of the car, they are warmly greeted by a couple in their late fifties.

"Phil. Lorna. This is Steve. He works with me at Eliza's."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you." One says with a strong Southern accent while the other beams.

He shakes their hands before putting them in his pockets.

"Well, you know the way, Katherine. Just let us know if you need anything."

The woman leans in to kiss her cheek and they resume their chores. Next, Katherine takes him the opposite way to the large barn further down.

The large door is open and she takes the lead to walk inside.

She greets Jimmy, the young stable-boy in his twenties. He eyes Steve over his shoulder before answering hi.

"We're at the Dawsons," Steve says softly.

She turns around to flash a smile before heading in a routinely manner to one of the stables while he stands in the middle of the barn aisle.

"There, girl." He hears her say. And she steps out a few seconds later, gently holding the bridle to take the animal out. A majestic golden brown horse with ebony hair.

Her hand softly strokes its face. "This is Marquis," she says, not taking her eyes off of it.

Sensing his hesitation, she tilts her head in his direction. "You've ever been around horses?"

"Not really."

She smiles and strokes the horse again. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

She lets the reins hanging and goes to pick up the bucket filled with carrots. She gets two pieces and opens her palm for the horse to eat. He watches her, fascinated by the gentleness she displays, and the ease with which she does it.

"I thought we could find you a friend and go for a ride," she says. "All you have to do is choose the girl you want."

He chuckles nervously. "It usually takes me long to choose."

She grins. "Good! Horses need time, too. First, you need to bond."

He clears his throat nervously and begins to wander along the aisle, looking into each stable. He eventually stops in front of the stall door where a slender black horse is drinking water. It turns around and eyes him, just as intently as he is gazing at the animal.

Katherine comes by his side.

"Black horse?" she asks.

"Well, they don't come in navy blue," he answers with a grin. She smirks back.

"Fiona is quite gentle, although sometimes stubborn."

He couldn't have made a better pick.

Katherine holds up the bucket of carrots for him to collect from.

"Hold your arm out a little without being pushy. Let her decide if she'll take it."

He follows her instructions. The horse takes a couple of steps back then slowly comes closer to the stall door with the same guarded demeanor. Its lips brush against his palm and pick up the carrots.

Katherine smiles. She reaches down for his hand and gently presses it on the horse's face. His palm feels the smooth coat of the animal, but every nerve on the back of his hand feel her soft skin lying on top. Her fingers fall between his as her hand gently guides his caress. He is holding his breath, his mind saturated by nothing but the ruling awareness of their physical touch.

"Yeah. You got this," she murmurs and her hand delicately pulls away.

The horse lets out a gentle neigh of approval. Steve laughs gently, exhilarated by this experience in every aspect. He turns to look at her.

"Let's get started," she says, and he loves the promise of what is to come.

After more than thirty minutes Fiona warms up enough to him not to brush him away whenever he attempts to climb up.

"Are you settled?" she asks from the ground.

He looks at her with a slightly apprehensive wince. "Kat, are you sure about this?"

She smirks. "Relax and trust me."

She takes hold of the reins. He watches as she gently leads his horse and walks a big circle.

After a few minutes of acclimation, she hands it over to him and gets on Marquis. She makes it turn around with startling easiness to walk along next to him.

"How did you know you'd be good at it?" he asks her.

The corner of her lips curls up. "I didn't. But when you don't remember anything about who you are and what you can do, you take it you might as well try everything."

They trot and eventually quicken the pace to mild galloping. Her face lights up with excitement as the strands of hair fly in the wind. She has never looked so free and unhindered. He has never seen her so beautiful. Joy suits her.

* * *

A couple of days later, the mind filled with the exhilarating memories of his first horseback ride, Steve is sitting on the front porch staircase along with Katherine, enjoying the sunny day. Riley has been regularly interrupting their small talks whenever she has successfully fetched the tennis ball he throws.

She does it again for an nth time but pauses and turns around, hearing an imminent arrival. It's Jake. He pulls the car over and comes out: his eyes immediately fall upon them. He briefly pets Riley and walks over to them with a wide smile.

Katherine frowns in surprise, not the least expecting his visit.

She stands up and he quickly captures her lips for a peck. She laughs nervously, self-conscious about the presence of a third party.

"What are you doing here?" she asks as he greets Steve with a nod.

"I took the afternoon off and thought we could do something."

She scratches her temple. "I have some things to finish. Why didn't you call me before?"

"Wanted to surprise you. That is all."

Steve goes back inside the house.

Riley is wagging her tail expectantly, waiting for Steve to throw the tennis ball. He does but it takes a bit of will not to accidentally throw it a little farther to the left where a certain someone is standing.

Jake's body language changes slightly as he puts his hands in his pockets. "I came across Jimmy and he said you came to do some horseback riding…with Steve. I thought that when you would want to do it with someone else, you'd take me."

She presses her hand on his chest. "Steve and I work together, and he's from the city. I thought this was fitting," she explains casually, then her intent gaze falls on him. "I didn't know it mattered so much to you."

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and chuckles nervously, letting out a sigh he was holding in the process. He puts his hands around her waist and shakes his head. "You're right — I get it. Maybe next time you'll invite me…no pressure of course."

He flashes the wide, beaming smile she finds adorable.

They go together inside so he can greet Eliza. She's sitting in the couch while Steve is measuring the window in the kitchen.

Jake turns to face Katherine again. "So, how about a little getaway? Maybe we could go hunting again. You were amazing."

He looks enthusiastically to Eliza and Steve. "You wouldn't believe. She was so good — better than all my hunting buddies. Her hand didn't shake…"

"That was just one time," Katherine comments sheepishly but her voice is barely audible under Jake's passionate speech who doesn't seem to pick up. She glances over at Steve with a noticeably uneasy expression.

"…steady arm and gaze," he carries on. "Bullseye on the first shot."

"Jake," she says softly. Steve puts the measuring tape down and walks over to the counter, eyes fixed on her.

Jake smiles. "I'm telling you, born to kill."

"Enough!" She exclaims.

Jake freezes and heavy silence falls on the room and settles. He furrows his brows, confused, concerned and apologetic although he cannot tell what he said wrong. Steve and Eliza exchange a glance. Jake reaches over to hold her arm but she pulls away and makes her way to the backroom. He follows her but comes out a minute later with a disconcerted expression before walking out of the house.

Dinner goes normally. Kat takes part in the conversation and smiles; but he notices the long minutes during which she doesn't say a single word and how quickly her grin drops. He sees her downcast eyes and it seems he can read the thoughts that are in her mind. He knows her too well not to realize she is upset, no matter how subtle it may look.

Later on, after undressing and going to bed, his mind still with Katherine, an idea comes to him.

He takes his cellphone and quickly presses the call button.

"Hi, Buck. I'm gonna need a favor."

* * *

A couple of days later, Steve is on his way back from town where he went to buy pots of floor wax and wood. As the Chevy drives down the muddy road, he finds a shiny, expensive SUV parked. He parks the Chevy behind it, gets out to collect the equipment lying in the back of the truck, eyes glancing at the unknown car.

He puts everything at the foot of the stairs and goes in. He walks into the living room and, to his surprise, find Bucky sitting silently in the couch, and Sam, sprawling beside him, while sipping a glass of lemonade. Eliza, sitting in her armchair, is eyeing them intently.

"It looks like we have guests," Katherine says, appearing from the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks. He turns to Kat. "They're my friends and teammates."

Katherine probes them in a new light. "So you…," she begins, pointing at them, then herself.

"I know how puzzling it feels," Bucky speaks softly. "I've been there. I recovered my memory only a few years ago. I was brainwashed."

Katherine blinks with an unconcealed puzzled expression.

"OKAY," Sam exclaims loudly, rising to his feet. He walks over to her and points a thumb over his shoulder, where James is sitting. "This is Bucky, the ice-breaker of the team as you've figured. I'm Sam Wilson."

She politely shakes his hand as her eyes quickly flicker in Bucky's direction then back to him. "Oh, Sam…," she repeats as she puts a face on a name she has heard before.

Steve is watching from his spot, slightly tense.

Sam is looking at her closely. He gulps down a little and his eyes are gleaming subtly. "Wow," he simply says, stopping himself.

She doesn't say a word, seeming to read the next words he didn't voice aloud. Then she turns to James. "It's nice to meet you too, Bucky," she adds.

A few minutes later, she takes Eliza upstairs.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks again.

Sam smirks cockily. "When you said handyman, I had to come all the way here to see it with my two eyeballs."

"Yeah, I was pretty curious, too." Bucky echoes quietly.

Wilson eyes him up and down. "I mean, look at you. You have adopted the lumberjack look, completely."

"Well, they only have checked shirts available around here," he jokes coolly.

"We're only here for a short while anyway," Bucky says reassuringly.

"Yep. Just long enough to evaluate a look at your housework," Sam says. His eyes scan the room., and he pouts appreciatively. "The house is still standing for one."

Steve rolls his eyes and chuckle. He has to admit, it's good to see them.

Less than an hour later, Steve and Bucky are taking a walk around the house. They have a little catch-up where they have small talks and exchange banters.

As they finally return and stand to look at the house and its quiet, peaceful surroundings, Bucky says while staring musingly.

"Yeah, it's a great place."

Steve turns to him. "What are you thinking?"

A smile tugs at his best friend's lips. He nods to himself, taking in the scenery, then looks at him. "That I understand why you would decide to stay here for good."

He frowns, shakes his head, ready to retort. But Bucky stops him. "It's ok, Steve. You, more than anyone, deserve a life without war. You've earned it."

"You too, Buck."

James snorts sadly. "Not me. Not yet. I still have a lot to make up for."

* * *

It is nearly the end of the afternoon when Sam and Steve are talking to the porch. Like a diligent right-hand man, he reports on the Avengers business. So far, all fine —not that he doubted it. The usual minor incidents that do not require his presence.

They walk over to the SUV. Sam opens the back door, reaches for a closed box and holds it up.

"Here. The favor you asked Bucky."

His chest swells a little as he delicately takes the box in his hand.

Katherine and Bucky come out of the house and stand on the porch, in deep conversation, much to Steve's surprise. They have been talking for nearly an hour. It seems that where Natasha never really managed to bond with James (probably due to their rough common history), Katherine found something to connect with him. She naturally walked to him as she felt he was the one who was fit to understand her situation the best.

It is time to part. Kat shakes Sam's hand warmly, while her handshake with James lasts a little longer, as they exchange a deep, meaningful glance; her eyes filled with gratitude, understanding and benevolence.

Steve hugs them both and moves the Chevy away. The SUV disappears down the path.

In the evening, he walks down the hall upstairs and knocks on her bedroom door.

"How are you?" he asks.

She knows what he means. "Quite good, actually. It was interesting to meet them. And insightful."

He nods in relief.

"Kat," he begins. "I thought I should give you this."

He holds the box that he asked for. She eyes it curiously. She takes it, removes the lid and unwraps the tissue paper.

"Pointe shoes?" she comments with an arched eyebrow.

In other circumstances, it would hurt to have to part with them, but now he feels nothing but grateful content knowing they return to their rightful owners.

"They're yours, actually." Her fingers gently brush the silken fabric. "You once said that you were scared of the Black Widow. But that's not all she was. She was far more than that."

Her pupils widen, covering the green of her eyes with deep black. "I could dance?"

He smiles warmly. His heart swells as he reminisces the time she allowed him to watch her dance. It was on a rainy November day in the Compound. A wonderful sight. He recalls how her body gracefully swirled with the music, both with discipline and beauty, how her body seemed to soar to the sky in every jump, how her feet landed on the wooden floor in a muffled sound. Precision allied with finesse. She danced along with the music until she became the music. An enchanting melody — he remembers thinking he had never seen her so beautiful.

"Oh yes, you could!" he attests, with a burst of soft laughter. "A truly talented ballerina."

Katherine stares at the worn shoes like a treasure. Her eyes fill up with tears. She swallows it down, though; locks it away. He sees how there is still so much of Natasha in Katherine.

She puts the box down on the piece of furniture besides her and springs into his arms. He welcomes it with joyful surprise. She holds him tight in her arms.

When she eventually pulls away, she gazes at him with a smile.

"Thank you, Steve."

He feels pride and content as he knows he has just made Katherine the most beautiful gift, and honored the memory of Natasha Romanoff in the best possible way.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve has been in Louisiana for a month. He has naturally fallen into a pleasant routine and the guesthouse has begun to feel more and more homely.

This morning he is woken up by wet kisses in his neck. Long, slobbery kisses.

He cracks his eyelids open and groans slightly, gently pushing away the affectionate lady in the bed with him.

"Riley, how did you get in?" he mumbles and the Golden Retriever's tongue runs across his face. He chuckles and tilts his head away before propping himself up on his elbows. Riley is wagging her tail with an open mouth smile. He strokes the back of her ears and her head shakes approvingly. "You gotta stop doing that," he says.

He sits up and Riley hops off the bed. He makes his way to the en-suite bathroom, showers and gets dressed.

When he comes down to the living room for breakfast, he finds the other two ladies in the house chatting across the table, with a mug of coffee in their hands.

Eliza and Kat greet him with a smile.

He smiles back and goes to pour himself coffee from the warm glass jar. He then sits down next to Katherine and helps himself to one of the freshly-made French toasts lying in the plate.

"Tomorrow night the Donovans are hosting their annual party and all the locals are invited," Eliza begins.

Kat leans closer and nudges him gently with a smile. "You should come," she says.

"Are you going?" he asks.

"Carol would resent me and take it to her grave if I didn't," she laughs. "It's quite nice. It's just people coming together and drinking a lot. This year should be even more special being the first one since the Second Snap. And you now belong to our community too, so."

Katherine smiles. She seems enthusiastic about it.

"Then I guess I'm in," he says.

The early evening of the party, Steve quickly stands in front of his bedroom mirror to have a look. He has put on a casual — albeit visibly more elegant— white shirt, sleeves rolled up, with dark jeans. He is a little nervous although Eliza assured him his presence would go unnoticed and that it was very unlikely any of the guests would recognize him. "They're just a bunch of either old people with undiagnosed cataract or rubes. Or both," she told him.

When he comes downstairs, he finds her waiting by the doorstep in a long floral dress with a light grey cardigan over her shoulders. She is wearing a necklace and has a bit of mascara.

"You look fantastic," he tells her.

"Does it mean you are officially my plus one, then?" she jokes.

"I intended to be your plus one all along," he answers walking up to her.

She holds her arm out and he gently slips his under to stand by her side.

Eliza smiles. She tugs her short hair behind her ear and shows her pearl earrings. "Robert bought me those to celebrate our 35th anniversary."

Steve smiles. "A man with great taste."

The sound of footsteps rings out upstairs. Katherine's black high-heeled appear at the top of the staircase. Steve looks up and watches as she comes down.

She is wearing an elegant and slinky, knee-length black dress flowing gracefully. The sleeves are short and fall over her shoulders. Her red hair is down and styled in natural-looking but full waves. She goes to the coatrack and turns, revealing a slightly glamorous but elegant back cleavage. She picks a dark red shawl and throws it over her arm.

"I'm ready," she says.

Steve can hardly speak. She looks nothing short of stunning. He has seen Natasha in evening dresses before — dresses far more fashionable and stupendous than this one — but there is something about Katherine's simple bucolic charm that strikes him just as powerfully.

Her eyes look him up and down. "You look really elegant," she says cordially.

He clears his throat quietly but he is sure Eliza heard it. "You too," he says.

Katherine walks through the door and he stands motionlessly for a couple of seconds. When he normally responds again to his surroundings, he finds the woman at his arm smirking softly.

All three of them get in the Chevy and drive over to the Donovan farm. He pulls over and leaves the car among the bunch of pick-ups randomly parked along the path. The sun has barely begun to set.

Then they make the way to the big barn from which emanate strong, warm light and the distant sound of country music. The gates are held open by straw bales where a couple of men are chatting with a bottle of beer in their hands.

They walk through to a large, bright room, painted red with hay bundles and equipment at every corner. Down the room, there are large rectangular tables with food, glasses and an immense glass punch bowl almost filled to the top around which gravitate a dozen guests.

Right across there is a group of people talking loudly. Some children whiz past them, across the barn to the exit where they are still standing. Three or four couples are already dancing on the improvised dance floor which majorly consists of an old wooden floor with straws scarcely scattered.

George — the man who regularly brings in milk and cheese — and a woman come over with big smiles. They hug Eliza first, then Katherine, and shake his hand.

"Enjoy the evening. The ribs are still hot. You should go and grab some before the young Johnson stuffs them all down within ten minutes."

George pats Steve's shoulder warmly and goes to greet new guests.

A familiar slender figure suddenly appears behind them and cover Katherine's eyes with their hands. She smiles and spins around, holding Jake in her arms.

"Wow," he simply exclaims as he looks down at her. Holding her hand, he comes over to greet Eliza.

"Good to see you, too," he says to Steve while shaking his hand. "This party is like a big event around here. Just a festive come together."

He then turns to his girlfriend. "Oh Kate, there's someone I wanted to introduce you to." He turns to Eliza and Steve. "Do you mind if I steal her from you for a moment?" he asks. He then plants a kiss on her cheek and takes her away, far across the barn.

The moment lingers, drags on to become an hour. When she finally joins them again to have some nibbles, Jake eventually rolls in again and takes for a dance.

Which becomes two.

Which becomes three.

On and on.

Steve throws glances from across the barn, sitting on a bench next to Eliza who is looking at the audience with a remote calmness which resembles tame disinterest, a gentle fixed grin on the lips.

"Looks like you've blended in," she says. "Fully incognito."

"And without reading glasses," he says with a smile. Earlier she had suggested he'd wear glasses to keep his identity crisis, as it seemed to work so well for Clark Kent.

"Since the Second Snap," she says softly, "people have been craving a sense of normalcy. They'd do almost anything to resume their satisfying, unordinary life…even ignore the elephant in the room. They'd rather convince themselves you're the new, vaguely familiar-looking handyman than acknowledge who you really are."

He nods musingly.

An amused smirk tugs at her lips. "Glasses or no glasses."

After a while, when Katherine returns, her face slightly flushed from the exhilarating dancing, the elderly woman says she is going home and asks one of the locals on his way out if can drop her off.

She presses a hand on his arm in a motherly manner. "You enjoy yourself."

Katherine fills up her seat next to him. She casually props her forearm on his shoulder, leaning over.

"Jake has gone to get me a drink," she says then looks at him. "By the way, why are you the soberest person in the room?" she asks.

She ostentatiously glances down at the glass of punch in his hand.

He smiles. "Super-soldier serum," he sums up in a low voice.

She looks amazed. "I think that's the coolest of your superpowers." She pauses and a cute deeply concentrated expression comes on her face. "Or wait…it's not."

He snorts. "It's not," he confirms. He can vividly recall the times in his life when he would have needed some assuaging boozing but couldn't get it."

She pouts sympathetically. "I'm sure you won't mind if I help myself, then," she says as she leans in — he smells the subtle scent of her fragrance—reaches for the glass in his hand and takes it to her lips.

"You haven't found yourself a partner yet?" she asks. She throws a look around the barn and at the many women standing alone in the barn. "I mean, I can see half a dozen women who are desperately waiting for you to invite them for a dance. Like that blonde over there."

He follows her look and sees a charming-looking blonde standing by the exit, with a glass in her hand, eyes roaming across the room. They meet his, freeze for a second, before darting away sheepishly.

He laughs. "I don't really do dancing," he simply comments, putting aside the complicated history behind it.

She frowns, perplexed. She is about to ask why when Jake turns up with a bottle of beer for her. She takes a sip and curls her lip. "I think I like the punch better."

Jake invitingly holds his hand out to her. She takes another gulp from the glass and slips it back into Steve's hand. She gives him a smile then puts her hand into Jake's. He pulls her up and takes her back to the dance floor.

Steve bites his bottom lip, he watches as Jake takes her by the waist and twirls her with insolent confidence. His eyes then wander across the room. Eventually, they fall on the blonde woman again. He notices she has long straight hair and light blue eyes.

She smiles at him. He glances down at the nearly empty glass of punch in his hand. He looks up again and grins.

More to himself.

She reminds him of Sharon Carter. And he realizes how much time has gone by and what a different man he has become. He is no longer that undecisive man fearful of rejection who kissed agent 13 under a bridge.

It took him to go through years of being a fugitive, failing to stop the decimation of half the Universe and living 5 years with the guilt of it, but most importantly it took him to lose the very woman who stood by his side through all those hard times to acknowledge how much he loves her; to know, without the shadow of a doubt, she is the only woman he will ever want to be with, because she has filled all the room there is in his heart — and expanded it in the process— to the point it simply has no space left for anyone.

He could watch marry and be happy with another man but that would never stop him from wanting to be with her. He would literally wait a lifetime until the two of them have become so old they can barely stand and if she asked if she could sit by his side and hold his hand for the little time they have left, she would find the empty space next to him, kept vacant just for her.

If the Universe has decided that he could never have Natasha — or Katherine — in this lifetime, in this reality, then he would wait until the next one.

The blonde woman takes his grin as an invitation and walks over to him.

* * *

Katherine and Jake stand still as the band, composed of known members of the community, are taking a short break to have a sip. She runs her hand through her hair and instinctively turns, looking for Steve.

She finds him standing by the punch bowl, chatting with the very blonde she pointed to him. Her beaming smile fades, almost turns dull. She freezes, thrown off by a sight — and emotion— she did not expect.

Standing behind her, Jake glances over her shoulder, following her gaze. He smiles satisfyingly. "Looks like he's found some company."

Katherine drags her gaze away and turns to her boyfriend. "Yeah. Good for him."

The band resumes playing, hitting the first notes of slow-paced music. Jake takes her in his arms and both start slow dancing like the many couples around them. She presses the side of her face against his arm and her eyes flicker to the buffet table a few times.

At the end of the evening, when over half of the guests have headed back home, Katherine calls it a night. Steve politely says goodbye to the woman who kept him company, Lorna.

He grabs Katherine's shawl from the bench and she comes to collect it, draping it over her shoulders.

Jake has had one too many drinks and obviously leaves it to Steve to drive her back home.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks,

"Just let Tom take you home. Steve and I will be fine."

She kisses him on the cheek then glances at Steve. They walk to the exit together, say George and Carol goodnight before heading back to the Chevy.

They are driving back home, down a long and quiet rural road, with nothing but the car lights cast over the black asphalt. She leans over to turn the radio on and some soft music begins playing in the background.

"You had a good evening?" she asks.

"It was nice," he answers.

She lays her head back on the headrest, she watches him musingly as he gently steers the old wheel.

"You didn't dance. I'm sure the girl you talked to wanted to dance."

He smiles. "It's complicated."

She tilts her head, gazing at him. "Try me," she says softly.

"In the 1940s, I met someone. We thought we were each other's right partner and we thought we would finally have our dance when the war is over. But things turned out differently — I never saw the end of the war — and we didn't have our dance."

Her features have turned stern. "So, you're still waiting on the right partner?" she asks.

He snorts softly. "I'm way past that kind of sentimentalism. I just don't know how to dance and I'd find it awkward to have my first time with a complete stranger."

Kat frowns. "And I never danced with you? Cold," she comments.

He smiles, eyes on the road, then glances at her. "Well in your defense I'd never told you about this before…until now."

She eyes him intently, surprised by this unadulterated and selfless blast of honesty. They drive in silence for a short while as she pensively bites her thumb.

"Pull over," she suddenly says.

He shoots her a quizzical look. "Pull over," she repeats.

He does as she asks and pulls over on the side of the road. He turns to look at her but she has already opened the door on her side and stepped out of the car. Still holding the wheel, he watches her walk around the Chevy, in front of the bright lights, to his side of the car.

"Let's have that dance," she says.

He puffs. "It's fine, Kat. The last thing I want is some pity dance. You don't owe me anything just because I shared that old story with you."

She arches an eyebrow and probes him. She then leans and lays her arms over the edge of his window door.

"I never do anything out of pity," she affirms resolutely. "I want to have a dance with you, Rogers. But knowing that I will be your first is an honor."

He leans his head back on the headrest and smiles. "You seriously want to have a dance here, in the middle of the road? Somebody could see us…or even get run by a car."

"You know you are quite fearful for a hero," she teases.

"Comes with the job."

A beguiling smirk tugs at her lips. "Too shy or too scared?" she purrs.

He nervously taps his fingers on the wheel. It hits him he has never indulged himself to any kind of fanciful whim, because he was an Avenger with responsibilities and the weight of the world over his shoulders. But here, in Louisiana, he is just Steve — a normal man having a normal life. And right now, he is a lucky man invited for a dance by the most stunning woman at the party.

He reaches for the handle. The clicking sound makes her smile triumphantly and she takes a step back to let him out. He leaves the door wide open and the slow music on the radio resounds a little louder.

Her fingers pinch the shawl hanging along her arms and with a pull, makes it slowly slip off of her. She then puts it on the hood of the car and steps back to stand in the middle of the road.

It is a starry sky, a long straight road with nothing but grass and trees for as far as the eye can see.

He suddenly feels very nervous at the prospect of getting so close physically. He walks up to her while she waits like a wild bird that lets someone come near. He lifts her hand and her fingers gently grasp his hand and she pulls him toward her. He puts his hands on her waist while she rests hers on his arms and slowly, very naturally, they sway to the music. He is amazed by how easy it is — how obvious. His palms wrap up closer around her waist as the music guides him along. Then he pulls away, raises his arm and twirls her; she turns around with a smile then steps back toward him as they both swirl together, his arm clutched around her and her hand brushing up his shoulder before nestling at the nape of his neck.

They smile. He wonders if she feels what he is feeling, the sheer bliss born from their effortless harmony.

The moment seems to last forever and yet the song hits the last note. They dance on a little longer, finding a melody in their impeccable synchronized pace. Eventually, they stand still, right there and then in the middle of this country road, staring into each other's eyes.

She bites her bottom lip and slowly pulls her hand away from the base of his hair; he lets go of her waist, too.

After a pause as she seems to try and read him, she smiles. "Thank you for this last dance," she murmurs. She slowly steps out of his vicinity, back to the car.

She picks up her shawl on the way back to her seat.

* * *

The following day goes normally with no mention of the midnight dance. They chat about the party over breakfast with Eliza before resuming their respective work.

A couple of days later, Steve is sitting at the living room table, calculating the spending for finishing the flooring. He hears what he assumes is Jake's car pull over as he came earlier to take Katherine out for dinner. Loud voices echo from the distance. He hears fast footsteps go up to the porch, followed by others.

"I try, I really do. But you gotta give me something," he hears Jake's voice exclaim helplessly.

He catches sight of her silhouette standing on the porch. "Go home, Jake!" she shouts.

His shadow is cast over the shadow. A sigh echoes and his shadow disappears. A moment later, the engine of the car is on again and the car is driving away.

Katherine comes into the house. She takes off her denim jacket and lays it over her arm with a sullen expression. She is headed towards the stairs when she sees him.

She freezes. She doesn't seem upset he heard them. She walks over to the kitchen.

"I need a drink," she says apathetically as she goes around the kitchen, opens the top cabinet and takes out a bottle and two glasses. He takes the second glass as an invitation to stay.

She comes back to the table, slides one of the glasses toward him, flips around the chair in front of her and straddles it. She opens the bottle and fills their glasses.

She raises a toast and drinks it up, shutting her eyelids tight as the strong liquor travels down her throat. She pours herself another glass while his is still wrapped in his loose hand.

"Want to talk about it?" he ventures.

Her fingertips are massaging her temple, elbow propped on the table.

"No. Maybe," she says, staring into her glass. "Jake is a good guy — he's a great guy, actually — but it's apparently not that simple to date someone with amnesia."

He nods, listening closely and focused.

"Every relationship needs time," he says. "Each grows and blossoms at their own pace."

She smirks an ironic, tainted with some sadness.

"Did it take time for us?" she ponders aloud. Her eyes heavily turn in his direction. "I mean, you've made it look so easy and obvious since you got here."

He snorts quietly. "Yeah, it took a little while."

Her thumb goes to her bottom lip, pinching it lightly. She glances around the room, looking both hesitant and decisive. Her eyes finally dart back to him.

"Were we lovers?" she asks grimly.

The question takes him by surprise.

"No," he answers with a similar stern and collected expression.

"Did you want to?" she continues.

He feels a lump in his throat and his heart is racing but he does not lose his composure.

Sitting here before him with this somber look and a disappointed heart, all he sees with certainty is how much he loves her.

"Yes."

The word slips out of his lips with astonishing ease, releasing the burden of a secret he had kept for so long. He's afraid it might put her off, frighten her, make her flap her wings and fly away.

Katherine's face is unfathomable, still and expressionless.

"Did you think I wanted to?" she asks with similar aplomb, imperturbable.

He reminisces their many conversations, their banters infused with innocent but deliberate flirting, the unmissable intimacy between them in a busy room, her complete loyalty to him beyond professional bounds and logic, her wistful expression whenever she caught him looking at the compass.

"Yes," he says softly.

She stares at him intently, stunned, then her expression finally cracks. She glances away. When she looks back at him, it seems her green eyes are covered with a fine gleaming screen. Her lips part a little, and a for a brief second, not a sound can come out.

"Then why weren't we?" she murmurs, bemused.

He has asked himself the same question many times — even more so during the four months he lost her. His gaze mirrors hers, with a sorrow far more profound as it carries years of fond memories and unfulfilled desires.

"Because you and I, we put others before ourselves."

And there is an immediate understanding between them. Wordless and fated.


	9. Chapter 9

After that conversation, things changed without really changing. They still talk and have banters but the lingering silences make her uncomfortable, make her hastily walk away. However, the major change is Jake. Steve hardly sees him around anymore — he usually waits for her or drops her off down the path behind the trees. He thinks that is her thoughtful attempt not to shove her relationship in his face now that she knows his feelings are more than just friendly.

"I think I made a mistake," he tells Eliza as she watering the plants in the patio. Somehow, he feels like confiding in. "With Kat."

She puts the watering can down on the table and turns to him.

"She knows there was more than friendship between us," he explains. "And now I fear I might have scared her away for good."

"If you suspected that could push her away indeed then why tell her?" Eliza says.

"Because she asked." He rubs his temple. "I can't not be truthful with her. I can't. We're honest with each other."

"When you say we, do you mean you and Katherine or you and Natasha?"

He eyes her closely. "Are you saying I shouldn't always tell Katherine the truth because she and Natasha are different people?"

"Are they?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I don't know. I mean, I sometimes see Natasha in her — not because I'm projecting hopes or expectations — but I catch a glimpse of her." He often finds her in a smirk, in her incisive humor; and sometimes he sees her flash through her eyes, like a familiar twinkle in the back of her green eyes, and for the split of a second, he feels he has gotten her back. "Katherine or Natasha, it doesn't matter, it's still her."

Eliza nods, — to his surprise— satisfied with his answer. "What I'm saying is that you had reached a place with Natasha where you could be completely honest with her. Give Katherine time to reach that place, as well."

"And what if I told her the other night pushed her away for good?" he asks.

"It didn't. It might have taken her aback for a different reason. A reason she has yet to come to terms with."

He frowns. "What reason?"

Eliza smiles and pats his shoulder. "She'll come around, Steve."

"I think I screwed up," Katherine sighs as she drops heavily on the couch next to Eliza. She lays her back and looks at the ceiling without saying another word. She then slowly tilts her head to look at her. She gathers her words carefully.

"Steve has feelings for me," she finally says.

"I am flabbergasted," the woman answers coolly. "Are you sure you heard it right?"

Katherine rolls her eyes. "The last thing I need right now is your sarcasm."

"I mean, dear, that man left New York to live in a godforsaken hole in the middle of Louisiana — what more proof did you need?"

"I don't want things to get awkward between us now that I know."

"Did he make a move on you?" Eliza asks.

Natasha softly bites her thumb. The shadow of a smile tugs at her lips. "No. He was a true gentleman about it."

"Then why should things get awkward?"

"Because I know? I mean clearly, he will always have expectations that I can't fulfill."

Eliza furrows her eyebrows. "Why not?"

Katherine stares with large eyes then bursts into nervous laughter. "Because I am with Jake! Because Steve has feelings for the woman I was before — and I am no longer that person — and because there's Jake."

Eliza raises her hands in the air. "Fine, fine, you cannot commit. But again, why should things get awkward between you? You said Steve hasn't tried to make any move —and it looks like he does not intend to — and you said…you have Jake, so it seems everybody knows where they should stand. So, it seems the awkwardness comes from you and you only. Therefore, the real question is: why do you feel that way?"

She eyes him a short moment then shakes her head. "I am not making anything awkward. Steve possibly being awkward about this makes we awkward."

"Why does whatever he might feel matter so much to you?"

Katherine frowns, mouth slightly agape. "It doesn't", she eventually retorts defensively.

"Oh, so you don't care about Steve at all?"

"No. Ye-Yes! Of course I care about him."

Eliza probes her silently with a triumphant look. Katherine jumps on her feet.

"You did not help at all, Liz!"

"Oh, quite the contrary actually."

Katherine throws her a dubious look then walks off.

In the early hours of the morning, Steve's phone vibrates on the bedside table. He pulls his head from under the pillow and answers it.

"Yes, Sam?" he says groggily.

His friend's voice is apologetic but stern. "I'm sorry Steve, but we need you on this one."

He sits up, fully awake.

"The jet will be there in 30," Sam continues.

Katherine comes out of her bedroom to go and prepare breakfast. She heads toward the stairway but stops, before turning around and throwing a glimpse at Steve's bedroom door down the hall. She turns back again toward the stairs then flips again. She takes a deep breath, musters some courage and walks up to his door.

She knocks softly. No response.

She knocks again. Still nothing.

She leans her head in to catch any noise that might suggest he is awake. No sound at all.

She reaches for the knob and turns it. Just in case, she turns her head in the opposite direction.

"Steve, can I come in? I hope you're decent."

To her surprise, she finds the bed made.

She goes downstairs on the porch and takes a look around. His tools are still lying in the same place he left them the evening before.

The house is suddenly too silent for her liking. She roams around the rooms downstairs but it soon becomes obvious he is not here. Riley comes in, alone, further confirming he has not taken for a walk.

An inexplicable panic takes grip of her and won't let go. Is it possible he left for good? Maybe his patience ran dry (and she couldn't blame him for it). Yet, she wishes he had said goodbye.

Yet she wishes, as selfish as it sounds, he had stayed.

She rushes back upstairs to his room and opens the closet. His clothes and shoes are still there — a relieving sight. That means he hasn't gone for good, right?

Her hand trails along the edge of his bed and she notices a piece of paper lying on the bed, almost made invisible because of the patterns of the quilt.

A few words were hastily scribbled on it.

_Gone on a mission. Will return soon. S._

Her fingers stroke the dry ink, as the message brings both relief and concern.

The rest of the morning went quite smoothly, but somehow the silence lingering about seemed to bear the mark of a noticeable absence. With Steve being away, the routine has changed quite significantly. She looks at the empty seat across during breakfast; glances at the vacant stool from which he usually watches her when she cooks; her ears seek the sound of housework hammering but find none; she notices how Riley searches for him from room to room. Steve is away and his absence shows everywhere — no corner or being isn't unaffected by it.

She now realizes what place he has filled in the house, and in her life.

The next evening, Katherine and Eliza listen quietly to the radio, Riley lying between them. She is not in a chatty or joyful mood and she appreciates the old woman not making any remark about it. They go to bed early, and Katherine takes Riley as a company.

The dog sleeps at the foot of the mattress while she changes and slips under the sheet. She thinks about Steve, wonders if he is well or hurt. Her bedside light remains on for a couple of more hours.

The next morning, she checks his room, finds the bed untouched and gloomily heads down to the kitchen. Eliza meets her there half an hour later and they have breakfast.

Eliza no longer resists the urge to address the elephant in the room.

"He'll be back," she reassures her in a soft, motherly voice.

"Maybe only for a time," she says. "What if while he's there he realizes how much he's missed his old life."

Eliza smiles. "Impossible. What's not to like about this marsh?"

She laughs then turns stern again. "But what if it's not enough?"

"Then it'll be a matter for another day."

She spent the rest of the morning painting, or at least trying. Her eyes regularly glance over at the spot where he had painted the walls that day they had their first meaningful conversation. She eventually paints the hazy figures of two horses galloping freely through wild nature, unbound and careless.

She hears the remote sound of the front door swinging. She puts the brush down, wipes her hands and rushes to the main room.

Her pace slows down when she recognizes the figure standing by the door.

"Kate, can we talk?"

She nods at Jake and casts a glance at Eliza. She goes out on the porch with Jake. His features are unusually tense.

"I know things have been a little tense between us and I am aware it is my fault. I should have handled things better and be more mindful of your perspective on things instead of taking it all for granted."

She smiles. "Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that."

"I got stupidly jealous and panicked when it seemed you were slipping away which is why I kept asking more from you. I expected you to be fully here with me and give more when I should have simply appreciated what you were already giving."

"You were right, Jake. I was holding back, keeping my distance."

"I'll wait for you, Kate — as long as you need — because I love you. Because you are the only person I include in all my plans for the future."

Hearing the three words coming from him startles her, takes her by surprise.

He nervously looks around him, pulls something out of his pocket.

"I'm still saving money and I promise you will get your own ring when I can afford," he holds up a beautiful ring of traditional and simple design. "This was my mother's."

Her heartbeat increases.

"We don't have to marry just yet. But I want you to know that I am not playing around, that I think of you as my wife and, hopefully, one day, as the mother of my children. I promise I will spend the rest of my life loving you and making you happy."

He raises the ring and clears his throat. "Katherine, will you marry me?"

Steve knock down the last criminal. He stands quietly in the middle of the room, glancing at the unconscious bodies scattered over the floor.

"Last story secure. Over." He says into his comms.

He looks down at the shield tied around his arm. His forearm muscle and his hand are slightly sore as it has been a little while since he last used it.

Back in the compound, he sits alone at the conference table. Bucky joins him.

"Thanks for your help," he says.

"Sure. It's my job," he answers in a slightly dull voice.

Bucky sits next to him. "How did it feel? Going on a mission again."

He rubs the corner of his eyebrow and sighs. "It's like riding a bike I guess — you never truly lose it."

"But the thrill of it has gone, hasn't it?" his best friend asks.

Steve purses his lips together. "Fighting for what is right is all I ever wanted, that will never change."

"And your longing for something different does not jeopardize that. It doesn't mean you've changed, simply that you've grown."

He lowers his head. "After Tony…I owe it to him to continue."

Bucky squeezes his shoulder. "After Tony, you owe it to him to live your best life…whatever that is."

He smiles at his best friend. "You've always been the smart one, you know that?"

James laughs. "That's what I keep telling everyone but they won't listen."

Shortly before leaving, Steve goes to his room to gather more personal belongings to take with him. He fills up a bag and goes to the jet.

They take off and head for Louisiana and a smile is plastered across his lips.

Sometime later, they land in the same isolated grassland where his friends came to pick him up. He hugs Bucky and Sam.

"Say hi to Katherine," they say.

He steps out and watches as the jet hovers again and disappears into the sky again.

He makes his way to Miller's Guesthouse and treads the familiar path with glee. Barking echoes in the distance and Riley comes running, wagging her tail eagerly.

He drops the bag, kneels down and pets her. Meanwhile, the front door swings open and Katherine's figure appears with an expectant expression. She is wearing a white midi dress and her hair is up in a ponytail. Her eyes search for him, and as they find him a beaming smile tugs at her lips.

She comes down the stairs, almost holds him in her arms but holds back, gently pressing her hands on each of his arms instead.

"Are you alright?" she asks with a concerned look. Her eyes run a quick scan up and down his body, looking for injury.

"I'm good," he says. "It's good to be back."

Her eyes dive into his, the sunlight enhancing the green of them.

"Did I miss anything?" he asks jokingly.

Her face turns grave and it worries him.

She threads her fingers through her hair. She then looks at him again, serene and confident.

"I broke up with Jake."


	10. Chapter 10

Her words snatch his voice away. Katherine is looking at him quietly, not having anything more to add.

Before he can say anything, the front door opens again and Eliza appears. She smiles.

"You didn't' get lost, did you?" she asks from the porch. She helps herself with the railings to go down the stairs, walks up to them and gives him a hug.

"It's good to see you Eliza," he says.

"When are you going to say that I look younger?" she teases.

"That was my very next sentence," he answers with a smile.

Eliza chuckles and pats his arm. He slips it under hers and after glancing at Katherine, walks the woman back inside the house.

An hour later, dinner is ready. Katherine has coincidentally cooked his favorite meal. When he glances at his plate and looks back at her with a pleasantly surprised look, he finds her smirking at him knowingly as she sits down.

The three of them chat away for most of the evening and it feels like being at home again.

The next day he has resumed his usual routine. After spending most of the morning painting the furniture in one of the bedrooms, he heads outside to finish the window frames. Riley is chasing squirrels like the formidable hunting hound she believes she is.

He is about to hit the nail when Riley runs right between his legs, making him strike sideways, resulting in the nail pierce through the thin skin between his thumb and forefinger. He lets out a groan and tells off Riley far gone, chasing away.

He removes the nail but his hand is already throbbing as the first red mark has already blemished the skin. Blood soon clogs up to the surface then begins to stream down. He grabs the towel hanging nearby and wraps it around the hand. He makes his way to the kitchen where he knows the first aid kit is kept.

Katherine walks in as he is looking into the drawers. Her facial features tense as she catches sight of the blood-stained towel.

"What happened?" she asks in a concerned voice.

"It's okay. I accidentally hit my hand with a nail."

She furrows her brows deeply. He pauses to look at her. "I know. Just don't laugh at me…just yet."

She walks behind the kitchen counter and steps in front of him. She unwraps the towel and takes a look. She opens the faucet and puts his hand under the running water. She then grabs one of the tea towels and wraps it around his hand again.

"Go and take a seat," she instructs.

He complies and goes to sit at the main table while she opens one of the cupboards. She comes a few seconds later and turns one of the chairs so she can sit right in front of him. She asks him to lay his arm on the table and she unwraps the towel.

She opens the kit, takes out wipes and antiseptic. She pours some and gently wipes it across the wound. Then, using a new wipe she gently pats the area around it.

"If it stings you can groan, you know?" she comments, eyes focused on the task.

"I was trying to impress you."

She smirks slightly. "Consider me impressed — I now know you are not a cry-baby."

It makes him chuckle. Somehow, it is a talent of hers to make him laugh while patching him up. He recalls the time she wrapped a bandage around his waist after he had cracked a rib on one of their unofficial missions during their two years in the run.

"You're not supposed to be laughing, Steve," Natasha warned as she was tied up the bandage. But he could not stop — she had made one of those sassy remarks of hers and it had triggered his laughter. As painful as it was.

It had taken three days for Sam to come and pick them up — not the best three days of his life, but not the worst either. Natasha had made it more bearable like only she had the secret.

Katherine tears open a paper pouch and takes out the dressing. She lays it on the wound and cuts up the surgical tape. As she finishes wrapping it up, she smiles to herself pensively.

"Accidentally hitting your hand with your nail. This owie certainly does not compare with the type of injury Captain America would get," she says softly, almost whimsical.

"No, indeed. But I'm not complaining," he answers. "In fact, I could get used to these."

She takes her eyes off the dressing and looks up at him. They stare silently at each other while her fingertips are still wrapped around his hand, and he feels the soothing warmth that emanates from it.

She clears her throat and looks down at their hands. She gently moves it away and gathers up the first aid kit equipment while he stretches his hand a bit.

"Kat," he murmurs softly, then shakes his head softly, quite stunned about what he is about to say. "About you and Jake…I'm sorry."

Katherine frowns, a little incredulous.

"You're…sorry?" she repeats.

Somehow it feels very similar to that party in the Avengers tower when he told Banner to go for it. It had hurt, but he had meant what he said. Because nothing mattered more than her happiness. And if Jake made her happy, then, as satisfying it is to him to know he will not see him around, he cannot help but feel concerned about her feelings.

"You said he's the person you've known the longest."

"You're the person I've known the longest. Even if I can't remember it," she corrects him matter-of-factly.

He nods. "Right. But he's the one who helped you find your bearings and he made you happy…for a while…That can never be erased."

Katherine does not speak a word at first, then she quietly scoffs. She arches an eyebrow and stares at him intently with the shadow of a smirk.

"Sentiment? In this day and age? What are you, from 1925?" she comments musingly, left stunned by his genuine sympathy for a situation he should only rejoice about.

Her eyes probe him with new, deeper, appreciation. Amazement, perhaps.

He smiles sheepishly, overpowered by her enthralling and unsettling gaze.

"1945, actually."

She bites her lip. "Right."

She slowly gets up, holding the kit, and goes to the kitchen. As she walks behind him, she gently presses her hand on his shoulder, wordlessly thanking him.

Almost a week later, his unexpected and brief departure is forgotten. Working in the patio, he watches the family of four who stayed for five days check out. The little boy, Joshua, with fluffy dirty blond hair waves at him while clutching his mother's leg with his other arm. Steve waves back. Just then, Katherine kneels down and hands the boy a freshly baked cookie. Then she brushes his cheek with her thumb and stands back up. Soon the happy guests pass through the door and the old engine of their car starts off.

Katherine comes into the patio, holding a plate, filling the air with the warm scent of dough.

"Cookie?" she asks.

"You heard my thoughts," he smiles and reaches for one.

"Yeah, they were pretty loud."

She goes to sit on the chair and watches him as he paints the new window frame.

"You know," she begins. "I'm very impressed."

He holds the brush still and smiles. "With the home improvement? Not gonna lie — I share your feeling."

He takes a quick look around assessing all the work he has done around the house. If you looked past some irregular paint traces and other details, it looked decent. He suddenly realizes how much the guesthouse has changed since he arrived — the doors and flooring don't creak and there is a subtle smell of freshness in the rooms where the walls have been painted, some furniture has been fixed or replaced making the house look kempt and even more agreeable.

"Among other things, yeah," she concedes with a smile. "You're not the person I thought Captain America would be. You…surprised me. For the better."

He feels her gaze on him and turns to meet it.

"Who did you think I would be?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I don't know. This stern, self-righteous, heroic figure."

"Ouch," he jokes.

She chuckles. "No offense. I didn't mean it to sound harsh. My point is I guess I was afraid I could never connect with that person and all that he embodies. But you're more than all this."

He smiles softly — Katherine hasn't taken her eyes off of him, conveying deep appreciation and a hint of gratitude.

"And you haven't seen me cook yet," he chimes in teasingly.

She arches an eyebrow with an intrigued expression. "You cook?"

"Once during the Blip I tried to cook you dinner — and it was quite a disaster. So after the last Snap, I decided to take on cooking classes."

She laughs. "Looking for a career change?"

"Apparently I have quite a lot to choose from," he answers, lifting up the paint brush in his hand. After a pause, he dips it into the pot and stirs slowly. He clears his throat.

"Maybe someday I could cook us both something…get a second shot."

His eyes slowly drift over to her; she's probing him silently. She leans over slightly.

"That'd be nice. I'll be fair and count it as a first."

And they smile.

Later in the afternoon, Steve pops in upstairs to his bedroom to change his shirt now that the painting work is over. Buttoning it up, he glances at his phone and finds a dozen miscalls from Sam, the last one being just a few minutes earlier. He calls back, pressing the phone between the side of his face and his shoulder.

"Steve?" Sam's voice sounds grave, urgent.

"Anything wrong?" he asks.

Sam sighs. "I'm sorry about this. I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen. He was so pissed."

Steve furrows his brows and holds the phone in his hand. "What is it?"

"He knows. And he's on his way."

The sound of a driving car comes to his ear. He walks over to the window and looks through.

He recognizes the figure in the car instantly and his jaw tenses.

"Gotta hang up, Sam. Thanks for the heads up," he says hurriedly and drops the phone on the mattress before rushing downstairs, carefully glancing around but Katherine and Eliza are in the back garden.

He open the main door, walks down the porch stairs to the car. The figure steps out of the car and a deep frown come to his forehead upon seeing him. Steve expected no less of a reaction.

"Look, I can explain." He begins.

"Is it true?" Clint mutters. "Is Tasha here?"

Steve reaches his side, anxious to remain standing between Barton and the door.

"Don't you dare lie to me. F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed me the footage that _you_ kept away from us."

"I had to be sure it was her. I couldn't give everyone false hope until I was sure."

"That was over a month ago, which is when you decided to take that extended...," Clint pauses, pursing his lips together and running a hand over the back of his head. "When I think that I was glad you were taking some time off to heal….but you were actually here with her."

He sees an explosive combination of hurt and anger in his teammate's eyes.

"It's complicated, she has amnesia and she doesn't want…"

Clint is pacing around. He suddenly flips around and, using all his strength, shoves him; Steve hardly moves.

"You had no right to keep her all to yourself," Clint mutters, looking him hard in the eye.

Steve remains silent. He should have something to say in his defense, but it suddenly hits him no answer would be honest enough, because, deep down, he knows that what Barton said isn't completely untrue.

Getting her back made him selfish, made him eager of her presence with boundless yearning.

"I'm sorry," he begins but the other won't hear a word. And it is the kind of anger he cannot blame him for. As Natasha's best friend, he can only understand it. God knows how he would feel if the table had been turned.

"This isn't about me right now — you can be mad at me all you want. But you have to respect who she is now. She doesn't want to go back."

"Yeah, I wonder why she wouldn't," Clint hisses.

The front door swings open and the object of their heated feud comes through with a quizzical expression.

"Steve? Is everything all right?" she asks.

Barton's eyes are fixed on her, welling up. She eyes him warily before turning her attention back on Steve.

"She goes by Katherine, now," Steve whispers with pleading eyes. "You gotta respect that. Please."

She comes up to them. Clint is now holding back his tears, staring at her.

"It's so good to see you," he murmurs.

She glances at Steve. He gives her a reassuring nod. "This is Clint Barton."

She blinks, processing the information, as she has heard this name a few times before. She understands why she is the recipient of such an emotional surge.

"Hi," she says with a sheepish grin.

Clint takes her in his arms, brushing the back of her hair. She lets herself be hugged and politely rests the light touch of her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes wander to Steve then fall low, pensive.

"It's so good to see you," he smiles through his teary eyes.

She takes him inside the house while Steve remains standing behind by the car. He puts his hands to his waist and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

It took barely the afternoon for Clint to befriend Katherine. His innate, underlying sarcasm naturally appealed to her humor and was enough to start things off. They barely discussed the past yet found plenty to talk about. It seemed that no matter it is in this life or another, Clint and every version of Natasha were simply meant to get along. Like kindred souls drawn to each other always. It almost seemed like they picked up their friendship right where they had left it off, except it did not carry the weight of their tumultuous past and the memory of their painful separation.

At the end of the day, after having gone for a walk around the property, Clint and she head back to his car.

"I love my place and I've always had a thing for the farm life but you really took countryside to a whole new level," he comments with a smirk.

She chuckles. "You can stay tonight if you like," she offers.

Clint eyes her fondly then smiles.

"Nah. I know you're not ready yet. But don't rest easy — I'll be back soon. Eliza is a keeper by the way."

He cups her face and smiles. "It's so good to see you," he repeats as he first saw her.

He briefly glances at Steve — his anger has morphed into quiet resentment.

The following evening, they have dinner. Steve can sense Clint's visit has left a mark on Katherine. She eats quietly, with a pensive look and an uneasy mind.

As she heads upstairs to her room, he follows her to the staircase.

"Kat," he murmurs. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

She nods without a word and slowly goes up the stairs.

He goes to his room later and lies in bed sometime before he finally drifts to sleep. In the middle of the night, as the moon hangs high in the sky, a door creaks open. Cushioned footsteps tread along the carpet in the hall and sneak into the bedroom.

Sleeping on his back, Steve feels the mattress shift as someone climbs into the bed, and a warm figure nestles against his chest. He cracks his eyes open and looks down, finding Katherine's head pressed on his torso.

She speaks, probably made aware he has awoken by his racing heartbeat.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispers, face down.

He feels all of her half-bare body against him.

"It's okay," he whispers back.

She holds her arm out to lay across his chest. "I need you," he hears her say.

Steve cautiously raises his forearm, elbow propped on the mattress and holds it still hesitantly. He eventually lowers it down to drape over her back. For the first time, he can see how little she feels in his arms.

"I'm here," he says softly.

Her head stirs, turns to look at him. "I know," she whispers assuredly.

They gaze at each other for a little while then she drops her head back on the same warm spot.

He finally utters the question that has been on his mind for several hours.

"How did it go with Clint?"

She takes a couple of seconds before answering. "Well, surprisingly. I think he was a little mad at you but I pleaded your cause."

He chuckles and feels hers echo through his chest. "Thanks."

After a short silence, he whispers:

"I'm glad you two got along." And he is, truly. But he also feels a pinch in his heart, the unreasonable fear she will inevitably grow closer to Barton, that the bond he has been working on building with her will lessen now that her best friend has walked back into her life. Unreasonable and incredibly selfish but he cannot help thinking it. "He was the most important person in your life."

"Yeah, I guess," she says detachedly. "But if I may say he's not the person I spent the last nine years of my life with, stood by with through thick and thin. It's gotta mean something, right?"

He frowns. "Mean what?"

Kat shrugs. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

They remain lying still in this position, drawing comfort and peace from one another.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning when he wakes up with a smile upon his face, he finds she has gone. The memory from the past nine plays vividly in his mind with unfamiliar exhilaration. It has been long since he last felt such a kind of thrill, one that makes him feel young and blithe again. He takes a deep breath in, savors the day ahead and gets up.

Drinking coffee at the table, Katherine glides in, sits across from him. She looks at him with a beaming smile.

"Morning," she speaks softly. Her voice and expression are serene.

"Hi," he whispers back.

"Thank you for keeping me company last night," she says. They talked most of the night.

"Anytime," he smiles. What he really wants to answer is that it was, undoubtedly, the best night of his life, the most thrilling. One that excited him, raised goosebumps and left him breathless. A chaste night with her is far more electrifying than a thousand carnal encounters with anyone else. Far more tantalizing.

Eliza comes down the stairs. "Are you here?" she asks.

Katherine calls and bites into her toast. Liz said she needed to run some errands in the big town, which is about two hours away.

"I'm ready," she says, getting up.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asks.

"It's a girls day out," she answers.

"And you still have some improvement to make on this matter," Eliza teases.

Steve smiles and glances at Katherine as she picks up her denim jacket. "Well, I'll see you later."

The two women and Riley climb into the Chevy and leave.

Sometime later, his phone rings.

"How did it go with Barton?" Sam asks.

"It could have been worse."

His friend sighs. "I'm sorry about that. He came to the compound to see some files and he must have come across the Louisiana one. When I came back, I found the file open and he was on his way out. I tried to explain to him—"

"It's not your fault, Sam. It's on me," he pauses. "I shouldn't have waited so long."

"You did what was best for her."

Or for him? He can't really tell anymore.

He gulps down. "I screwed up, Sam."

There is a short silence on the line.

"He'll come around," Sam assures gently.

And he finds himself hoping his friend is right.

At the end of the afternoon, Steve hears the main door open.

"You sit here and I'll bring you some water," Katherine's voice echoes from the living room. She sounds worried.

"I told you I'm alright," Eliza replied with a noticeably uneasy tone.

Steve comes into the living room, finds Katherine leaning over Eliza who is sitting in the sofa with visibly tense features, and Riley standing closely by her side, its head resting on the old woman's knee.

Katherine looks up in his direction and makes eye contact before attending back to Eliza. It is long enough for him to catch she is concerned.

"Is everything all right?" he asks, walking up to the couch. Katherine sighs and looks at Eliza.

"We were mugged on our way back," she says.

His eyes widen. "What?"

"It all happened very fast," Katherine explains. We were at the gas station and I find those two guys surrounding the car; one of them grabbed Eliza's purse and tried to snatch it out his grip. Here, take this," Katherine says as she hands the lady a glass of cool water.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me so much."

Steve leans down, clenching his jaw. "Did they hurt you?"

Eliza shakes her head. "It's okay."

"He pushed her to make her let go of the purse."

"Nothing I can't take," the woman chimes in. "Things would have been worse if it hadn't been for you, Katherine." She says assuredly and turns to Steve. "She was amazing."

Katherine's face is grave. "I hardly did anything."

"She rushed over to the car and when the second guy tried to stop her, she caught his arm, swung him around and pinned him hard against the car."

Steve is eyeing her quietly. Kat shakes her head. "Just some reflex, I guess. It barely lasted more than a couple of seconds. Riley did most of the job. She pounced at them, barking, and the gas station owner came running."

Eliza puts the glass of water down. "It certainly made our day trip livelier but nothing worth dwelling on. I didn't have much cash left in the bag, anyways."

The shock of the incident came hitting Liz a little later and she went to bed without having dinner. Katherine stayed in the room with her until she drifted off and beyond. Eventually, she came back downstairs.

She is sitting at the dining table and sighs.

"I should have been more careful," she says. "I had been warned there were still muggers around from the time of the Blip."

"I can investigate. Go and find them." Among everything, he blames himself for not accompanying them.

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. Many of them are just people who lost everything and had to learn to survive. Not that it justifies the methods they've taken."

After a pause, she adds: "I realize…I could have done more today if I hadn't been so selfish and scared of those skills buried deep down inside. I want to be able to protect myself and the people I care about if need be."

She looks at him with soaring determination. "Can you help me? Train me?"

He looks at her calmly. "Sure. If this is what you want."

She nods to herself, staring into space.

"I'm ready," she says.

A couple of days later, they are standing before each other in the back garden. He is still while she is wiggling around, trying to find her balance, mustering the courage.

She looks sideways at the radio playing on the table. "What's with the classical music?" she asks.

"Well. You used to say you fight like you dance. I thought having some music could be helpful."

She nods.

"Ok," she begins. "Just show me the basics. I just want to be able to defend myself, not inflict pain." She pauses. "Or maybe a little," she concedes after giving it a thought.

She gives him a nod, as an invitation to get started. She bounces up and down and clears her throat.

He begins to walk around her. "The first thing you need is to build your confidence," he says, as he passes behind her back. "And it all starts with finding your balance —" He suddenly grabs her shoulder, slips his foot between her legs and trips her over. She falls to the ground, flat on her back. He leans over her as she watches him with a stunned expression. "…and keeping it," he finishes.

He holds out his hand and smiles. She takes it and gets up.

"It all comes with practice and by anticipating your opponent's next move," he continues. "It all starts in your mind. If you take the lead mentally, then you have the lead everywhere else."

She listens closely. She then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

He strikes again but she blocks it with her knee. She cracks her lids open and they smile at each other.

"_Now_, we can get started," he says.

Over two hours later, the sparring session ha already be taken up a notch. Her body naturally responds to his attacks, reclaiming old habits with a startling easiness. He speeds up the pace, begins to dodge her hit, excitement welling inside him. Somehow, he can't help but think that Katherine finding her reflexes means Natasha's memories could eventually be retrieved. Surely, he would go to the ends of the Earth to aid her in this quest.

They spare relentlessly, both finding strength in their depleted energy, consumed with unbridled enthusiasm. For her, it is thrill of novelty, the stimulation of a newly found power she'd never fathomed; for him, it is the pleasure of an old routine salvaged at last, the bliss of having retrieved something believed to be forever lost. Hours of sparring consecutively in the SHIELD's headquarters, the Avengers tower and the compound came back, flooding his mind. And yet, amongst all those familiar memories, he found some sense of novelty, too. Sparring with Katherine differed significantly from sparring with Natasha: what used to be discipline and enduring camaraderie have been replaced by playful competitiveness and, dare he admit, underlying physical attraction.

He could not ignore the rousing sensations he felt whenever her sweaty, panting body was pressed against him. The coming-and-going of her breast against his torso as her warm breath tingled his nape.

He clasps his strong over her chest, pressing her back against him, whispering into her ear.

"You're getting better. But never attack with your weaker foot."

Her hands clutch around his arm as she catches her breath. "Please tell me I used to kick your ass," she snorts. He leans in closer and smirks.

"I'll leave it to your imagination," he murmurs.

She jerks his arm down and spins out of his grip and, in a swift motion, wraps her legs around his waist and tumbles them both over. He lands on his back, she straddling him. She throws her head backward and takes a deep breath in.

"That was cool," she remarks.

He opens his eyes and looks at the ravishing sight on top of him.

"And painful, too" he groans. "It was your signature move." She props her hand next to his face and leans over him, their faces barely inches apart. He starts panting harder. "You could climb higher."

She laughs. "Don't tempt me more," she breathes out.

He looks into her eyes. "Why, you're tempted already?"

Her pupils dive deep into his blue eyes. "I might be."

A strand of damp hair falls out and he gently tucks it behind her hair. She glances at his hand then back at him. She tilts her head and arches an eyebrow.

"Maybe another time," she says. She pushes herself up to stand on her feet.

He gets up a few seconds later as Katherine wraps a towel around her neck and takes a sip from the water bottle.

"If Eliza complains tomorrow, I'll just say I got all those sore muscles from you." She jokes. She then pauses and frowns. "Actually, I shan't tell her that or her naughty mind will run wild."

He drops his head and laughs abashedly. "It's probably wiser."

This calls the end of the training and she rushes upstairs. He goes to his room, showers and puts on clean casual clothes. When he steps out into his room, buttoning up the last button, he finds Katherine sitting patiently at the end of his bed. She stands up. Her damp hair falls over her shoulders and has filled the air in the room with the smell of her vanilla-scented shampoo.

"I knocked first," she says.

"It's okay," he answers, a bit stunned by this unexpected visit.

She opens her mouth and closes it again before chuckling. "I was going to say I came to say thanks but that's now what I came for."

"What did you come for?"

She bites her bottom lip. "That might put you off. I'm quite forthright. Some would call it brazen."

She gazes at him boldly and he longs to discover the mysteries those green eyes hold. She rolls her eyes and comes forward, grabbing his shirt, ruffling it under her strong, restless grip and pulls him to her. She crashes his lips against hers, kisses them, devours them with a consuming passion. She pins herself against his body, slips her arm around his neck and pulls him down harder to her. His hands drop to her waist, hold it tight as he finds solace in this serendipitous embrace. She is bold and fiery like the sun and his lips are throbbing in exquisite ache when her mouth pulls away. His eyes are still closed as he catches his breath, his all body set ablaze, yet fully aware his lips are merely an inch away from another hallowed kiss.

He smiles contentedly. "I like brazen," he whispers in a husky voice.

She parts her lips and it makes him yearn for one more ethereal collision, radiant and heady. Her emerald eyes plunge into the blue of his.

"I want to keep being brazen with you, but I also want to do things right." She strokes his chin with her thumb and inhales slowly. "Make me dinner, Steve," she purrs in a honeyed, almost pleading voice. And all he hears is the promise of a blissful outcome.

She pulls away and with a content smirk, and walks out of his bedroom.

Later that evening, the three of them are having dinner. During dessert, Eliza clears her throat.

"After what happened the other day, I thought it would be good for me to have a little getaway. My friend Caitlin has been waiting for me to visit for a while. I finally phoned her today. I'll leave tomorrow and will stay for two or three days."

Katherine and Steve glance at each other with a knowing look. They couldn't have hoped for better timing even if they wanted to.

"I'll help you pack," she offers with unapparent enthusiasm.

"I'll be happy to take you to the station," Steve chimes in politely.

Eliza eyes them both suspiciously.

"I'm sure you two will have no problem finding something to keep you busy with while I'm away."

And they smile at each other.


	12. Chapter 12

On the day of departure, Katherine is zipping the travel bag and Eliza is sitting right next to it, on the edge of the bed.

"Did we forget anything?" she asks.

"Dear, I'm coming back in three days — I hardly need half the things you put in there."

"I'm simply excited for you. It's the first time you're leaving the house."

Eliza watches her. "Yeah, I guess it's nice. But why do I have a feeling you're excited for you?"

She widens her eyes. Eliza snorts. "Don't give me that fake outraged look, I can spot it a mile away —it comes with experience. What are you plotting?"

Katherine smiles then mimes zipping her lips.

"Ooh, so it is something juicy?"

There is a knock on the door. Both turn as Steve pops his head in.

"Sorry to interrupt but we'll be late if we don't leave in the next 10 minutes."

"Thank you, dear." Eliza answers.

He grins politely and closes the door. Eliza's eyes dart back and forth between the door and the young woman.

"Hmm," she muses aloud. "So, it is something risqué?"

Katherine lets out a little sound. "I'm pleading the fifth!" she exclaims.

Eliza rolls her eyes. "Fine. Don't say anything," the woman gives up. She gets up and stands before her; her voice softens. "But let me tell you this: nobody deserves it more than you, and I'm happy for you…regarding that thing that is obviously not happening."

She winks at her, and Katherine pats her arm softly with a grateful smile.

The ladies come down the stairs where Steve is waiting by the door entrance. He takes the bag from Katherine and heads out to the car.

Eliza turns to Katherine.

"I'll take care of your house," she says.

"I know I could not leave it in better hands."

Katherine smiles warmly then leans in to hold her in her arms. "I'll miss you. Just come back soon."

She hears her smile. "But not too soon either," Eliza answers cheekily.

Steve drops off Eliza at the stop and waits with her till the coach arrives. When it pulls over, he hands the bag over to the driver and turns to Eliza.

She pats his arms.

"Have fun," she says with a knowing smile and gets on the coach.

He smiles back and waves a bit awkwardly.

On his way back to the house, Steve grows nervous. The prospect of being all alone with Katherine is tantalizing as much as it is terrifying. He has been alone with Natasha a hundred times, more than he can count, but it is the first time the two will meet with romantic outlooks.

They have not really talked since she kissed him and the irrational concern she may have seconds thoughts about it begins to creep in.

He pulls over about an hour after leaving with Eliza and pauses, holding the wheel tight. He breathes in slowly, glances at his reflection in the rear mirror.

When he finally comes into the house, Katherine is watering Eliza's plants with much care. She steps out of the patio, and stares at him, standing still.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi."

It goes silent again. There they were thinking it would be easier when Eliza would be gone but now that she is they can't find anything to tell each other. It is like when you have been waiting to make that jump but you find yourself frozen at the edge of the cliff when the time comes. The exhilaration is so intense, much more heightened than what your mind could conceive, that it's paralyzing.

But she isn't like everybody else. She overpowers the exhilaration, no matter how big, owns it, and squishes it between her fingers. She smiles at him.

"So, about that dinner. Would tonight work for you?"

He nods. "Tonight, yes. Any night. I could even cook us something now."

Katherine wrinkles her nose and laughs. "I don't think a brunch would be as romantic," she comments. "And I have a few things to finish first. Gotta head to town for some errands."

He snorts. "Yeah. Me too, actually."

She walks over to him and slowly brushes her hand over his arm.

"Shall we say 6, then?"

Her physical closeness takes his breath away, brings back a flood of overwhelming sensations from the night before.

"Can't wait," he murmurs with a smile.

After hours of small works done all around the house without much attention, the evening comes around. Steve returns from a walk with Riley (mostly to pass the time) and goes upstairs to his room.

He has a shower, shaves and puts on one of his favorite shirts, navy, with a pair of black jeans and a leather belt. He brushes his hair and pats his cheeks with a bit of cologne.

He then goes downstairs to the kitchen and starts gathering all the ingredients and equipment. He has been thinking about the meal he will cook since the night before — even searched on Google for some ideas. He bought a bottle of red wine on his way back from the coach stop.

He sets the table and finds a couple of candles in one of the drawers, barely used.

Heeled-shoes echo in the staircase and up to the room. He turns around and freezes, stunned by the ravishing sight before him. Katherine is standing in an elegant maroon strap dress which falls slightly above the knee. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a golden hairpin, a few strands of hair loosely framing her face. Her eyes are a little made-up with black and her lips are rouged, looking fuller and more luscious than usual. All he's thinking is how badly he wants to taste them again.

A smirk tugs at those same kissable lips as she points at something behind him.

"You know we only use those when the lights go out," she remarks with a cheeky smile. He glances at the candles lit on the table.

"I can make the fuse box trip if you like."

She chuckles.

He gazes at her intently. "You look stunning."

She softly runs her palm down her waist and his pupils dilate as his mind wanders to imagine it is his hand doing it. "Thank you," she says. "I saw it on display as I walked past the store today."

Boiling water takes him out of his daze and he rushes back into the kitchen.

"Can I help?" she asks.

He puts the lip on the pot and comes back to her.

"You're not doing anything tonight."

He holds her hand and takes her to the counter where she sits on one of the stools.

"What's the plat du jour?" she purrs with mild interest.

"Chicken Piccata Pasta," he answers.

She arches an eyebrow. "Sounds promising."

They talk for most of the time he prepares the dish, sharing small stories about the Louisiana life. Then they go to the table and he serves the meal. He then opens the bottle of wine and pours themselves a glass.

She dips her fork into the pasta and takes a mouthful. He watches her expectantly, slightly nervous.

"It's really good," she says.

He lets out a little sigh of relief and the pressure begins to wane.

"So what happens the first time you cooked us dinner?"

He snorts embarrassingly. "I burned the food," he pauses and cringes. "And burned my hand."

"Can it get more cliché than that?" she teases.

"I broke a glass too," he admits with a sheepish grin.

Katherine bursts into laughter. "Well, clearly you have improved…a lot."

They have another glass of wine and talk some more. Laugh heartily. The conversation flows like only they have the secret. After a while, Steve picks up the empty plates and brings them back to the kitchen.

He returns, to her surprise, with another plate. Smaller. He puts it down in front of her with two spoons.

"What's a meal without dessert?" he says, presenting the next course.

She looks down at the chocolate fondant standing in the middle of the plate, covered with cherry coulis.

"You made this?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Steve smiles. "Earlier today," he says then winces slightly. "But I burned the other one…Sorry. Could only save this one."

Katherine laughs. She props her forearm on the wooden table and leans forward. She strokes his face with her thumb and smiles fondly. "You're not like the others, are you?" she murmurs musingly, with a voice filled with content.

She turns her attention back on the cake and picks up the spoon. After eating half of the cake, she cuts another piece, she takes the spoon to her mouth, lets the chocolate melt into her mouth. She lets out a small moan of pleasure that gives him goosebumps and makes his fantasies skyrocket.

She covers her mouth with the back of her hand and grins sheepishly.

"Sorry," she says.

"Don't be. But —and don't take it the wrong way —," he pauses, rubbing his jaw, "I want to be the one to make you moan like that."

His words don't astound her. She makes the spoon dangle between her fingers and eyes him intently, drills a hole right into his soul.

"Look who's being brazen now," she comments light-heartedly before pressing the tip of the spoon between her lips.

He clears his throat and leans in, unapologetic and tranquil.

"In the past, I made the mistake of waiting too long, then I did it again with you for nine years. Frankly, I don't want to waste another minute with you. Not anymore."

She smirks. "I like that."

A moment later, he gets up and takes some dishes away. When he comes back, Katherine is leaning on the table, one leg up on the chair nearby. Her fair skin glows in the candlelight and he makes out the luscious curves of her body underneath her dress.

He stands before her while she sips what's left of the wine. She puts it down on the table and gently rolls the foot along the surface. He presses a hand on hers, stopping the motion.

She looks up and smiles. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him in. Their lips crush hard, ardently, fueled by the fiery spirit shrouding their minds, running in their blood. The kiss is eager, passionate and betrays untold desires and fantasies. It is less hesitant than the one from the night before, more demanding and ambitious now — they are past longing to know the taste and now yearn to explore its savor. His hands shamelessly take hold of her body, seize it to make it his as he leans over her. She reclines on the table and pulls him along. Her hand reaches for support but smashes the glass and some cutlery instead. It clatters loudly on the floor but they don't acknowledge it.

His belly is full, but his whole body, insatiable of her, is loudly calling for more. Her fingers thread into his hair while parting her lips.

The noise surprises Riley who comes running to the dining room, barking loudly turning the whole moment into an uproar. Katherine breaks the kiss and drops her head on the table and sighs. She urges Riley to go quiet. Steve moves away and stands back up, readjusting his shirt.

He takes her hand and pulls her up the table. While she goes to pet Riley and calms her down, Steve picks up the broken glass and the cutlery and heads into the kitchen. She joins him a couple of minutes later and together, they wash and wipe dry the dishes with a smile upon their faces.

The tension dies down and bantering resumes. Nearly an hour later, they switch off the lights downstairs and head to the top floor.

Her bedroom is the first in the hall. They come to stand in front of it and look at each other.

His whole body quivers at the thought of stepping through that door with her but his chivalry catches him up, ties him down.

He scratches the side of his head and glances down, clearing his throat. Katherine is eyeing him inquisitively.

"Thank you for your company tonight," he says, avoiding eye contact as a way to escape temptation.

She reaches for his hand, grasps it with her thin fingers and slips them between his, toying with it.

She steps backward, presses all of her back against the door as a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes probing him alluringly, she slips her other hand behind her back and turns the knob. The door opens without a noise, casting the light in the hall into her room. He remains standing still. Still facing him, she steps inside and pulls him in with her. He closes the door behind him with a soft push of the hand.

The bedroom is bathed in darkness with only the moon flaunting its light through the open window. The bed, right in the center, is covered with white linen with a large mosquito net draped over it. There is a subtle scent of perfume in the air.

They stand in front of each other without saying a single word for a little while, with nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing in the air. She steps closer to him and locks eyes with him. She lifts her hands up to his shirt and unbuttons the first button, then slip down to the next, and the next. His breathing grows shallow and his heartbeat quickens at every new button she loosens up. Her eyes, after stripping his soul bare, veer down to his chest and slowly unclothe him as do her hands. They eventually reach the last button and her fingers graze the base of his abdomen, right above his jeans, sending shivers through his core.

Then her fingers slide up along the edges of the shirt. She slips them under the fabric, along his collarbones and slowly takes the shirt off of him. It falls on the rug without a sound.

Her eyes dart back into his eyes, dilate visibly before they drop again to behold him. After several seconds of silent contemplation, she stares into his eyes again, slightly biting her lip.

His hands fall under the same spell. They come to her arms and his thumbs slip under the fine straps of her dress and pushes down to glide down the smooth curves of her shoulders. He then slips his forefinger under the fabric of her bust and slides it along the fabric to the side. He pinches the puller and the zipper slowly grinds open. The fabric unabashedly spreads apart, revealing the nape of her waist. Then, hands on her hips, he pulls the dress down which tumbles to the floor without resistance.

Steve takes in the bewitching sight of her small, slender body and the red lace underwear she is wearing. She lets him revel and, taking a hand to her head, pulls out the hairpin in which her hair is trapped. It cascades down her face in wild, flaming waves.

They devour each other with the eyes first, promising to venture through lands of unfathomable pleasures. And then, when they have reached the limit of what their patience can take, they come at each other. Mouth against mouth, bodies against bodies crashing in a languorous embrace. His arms wrap around her waist, his hands slide under to her buttocks and scoop her up as her knees clasp around his waist.

He flips them both around and hastily lays her stupendous body, ivory chest of unimaginable treasures, on the bed. He lies on top of her as she pulls his waist down against her and begins to leave a trail of heated kisses down her throat and along her sharp collarbone. Her skin awakens, sets ablaze and covers in goosebumps on every inch his lips and tongue touch.

Her breathing grows rapid and jerky as her body begins to twitch as his mouth travels around her breasts, down to her navel. Her back arches in a soft moan as her arm jerks up to his head and she clutches a clump of his hair in a tight grip.

"Don't stop," she breathes out, wrapping her thighs around his chest as he continues to make his way down to her hip bone.

Her skin is smooth and flavored, inviting and kissable. It's an endless road for him to explore and meander through, to delve into and get lost in. Meanwhile, her hands wander across his muscly back and taut arms, get familiar with their bulges

The lingerie soon relinquishes to his fervent dominion and flies across the room.

Their embrace, ardent and restless, crests as Katherine arches her back, stretches out her arm and clutches the cotton sheet, releasing a long and deep moan that echoes through the room. Her skin gleams under the moonlight and her body trembles gently as she gulps down and catches her breath. His panting begins to wane and he looks down at her, softly running his hand along her body.

Her eyes regain focus and look into his. She smiles and cups his face.

"You okay?" he asks.

She nods and runs her thumb along his bottom lip. "I'm great," she murmurs.

"Kat," he blurts out, "I —"

She lifts her head and presses her lips with his, lightly brushes them with the tip of her tongue, delights in their taste. Then her head falls back into the feather pillow.

He drops his head, nestles into her neck and wraps his arms tight around her naked body.

He has her all night, and always.

_Pitch dark sky with a purple stream of lights striped over it. It is a cold, somber night. A sunless world. The ominous cliff rules over it like a tyrant. Her body is dangling in the air, feet flapping. Her arm is outstretched but her hand is open, does not cling back._

_Her tears fill up with heavy, fated tears. Her lips tremble in nameless fear._

"_It's okay," she whispers softly and nods reassuringly. She is calm and accepting. Resigned but determined._

_She sways, pushes her feet against the sharp rock and propels herself out of the strong, disobedient grip. She falls, plunges into the ghostly abyss. Comes dangerously close to the hard, ruthless ground._

His eyes break wide open with a pounding heart. Above him, a thin net under a white ceiling. The ache he feels (and has lived with for months) is unbearable; he covers his face with his hand and closes his eyes — a tear escapes and rolls down his temple. He flips his head, finds Katherine sleeping peacefully and regains composure.

He concentrates on every sensation his body feels to find his bearings again and reassure himself his terrible nightmare is no longer a reality.

The electric fan blows through the warm room and makes the mosquito net wave. His fingers thread through her red hair and he shifts closer to her. He presses his body against her back, feels the mesmerizing motion of her breathing, relishes in the astoundingly beautiful reality he is in. His fingers travel along her arm and he breathes in the scent in her neck. He begins to kiss it, tenderly, lovingly, cravingly.

Her body begins to shift under his kisses calling for affection and comfort. She drops her head back against him, allows full passage to her throat and cleavage, moaning softly.

She then turns around to face him; he pauses in his kissing and smiles upon seeing her tranquil expression.

"I need you," he whispers with a slightly broken expression. "I want you."

She puckers her lips and brushes his mouth. Chastely first then parts her lips. She rises like an angel and moves across to straddle him. The sheet around her bust glides down the nape of her waist, unveiling her splendid figure.

She brushes her ruffled hair out of her face.

"I'm here with you," she whispers after leaning down just above his face.

She kisses his mouth languorously and sucks his bottom lip as she begins to sway her hips. He closes his eyes, taken and enwrapped by a rush of pleasure.


	13. Chapter 13

The electric fan is still softly swooshing in the room, making the mosquito net flutter. Katherine cracks her eyelids open, her bare body wrapped in the ruffled sheet. She turns around with a small grin only to find the spot beside her empty, with nothing but the imprint on the mattress as evidence of his presence all night.

The warm smell of waffle emanating from the lower floor filled up her nostrils. A moment later, Steve appeared through the door, holding a bed tray close to his bare waist. She tilted her head and peeked under it, catching sight of his white boxers. She hell back on her pillow and chuckled.

He carried the tray over to her side and placed it just above her lap. She sat up straight and closely looked at the delights it bore.

"Steve, it looks amazing," she says, mentally drooling over the golden waffles. "You cooked me dinner last night, and now this. You're gonna make a spoiled brat out of me."

"I doubt it," he smiles, watching her fondly as she shoved a piece of waffle she just cut into her mouth. She pours extra syrup.

"Well, be careful. I might get used to it very quickly."

That is a pleasant thought — he pictures himself pampering her for the years to come.

"Anytime."

She grabs a new piece and holds the fork up to his mouth. He takes and smiles, chewing.

"As tempting as it sounds, that will have to wait. There's work to be done."

He groans. "I was hoping we could pretend there is none. Take the day off."

She arches an eyebrow. "What would that day off involve?"

He shrugs. "Plenty of things."

He leans in pecks her lips which taste of syrup. He locks lips with her again a little longer.

"We could have a lie-in for one," he whispers hoarsely, kissing her jawline — her head tilts backward. "Then we could go and have a picnic."

"Sounds nice. But what if some guests turn up?" she manages to object between two soft moans. Her arm locks around his neck.

"I'd rather let all my plans for today rely on the hypothesis that nobody will."

"That's bold," she comments, then lets out a giggle when he intentionally tickles her neck by blowing softly on her skin. He captures the lobe of her ear next and sucks in it.

Her eyes shut and she bites her bottom lip. After a few seconds, she pulls away to make eye contact with it.

"I promised Eliza I would do everything right," she says a bit more gravely. He drops the cocky smirk. She runs her thumb along his lips, parts them slightly. "In her absence, I'm the boss and should act responsibly. We do what needs to be done and then we call it a day earlier than usual." She pauses. "I'll make sure to add 'please the boss' on your list of jobs. How does that sound?"

He cracks a smile. "I am a good employee. That is one job I aim to attend to with close attention."

Her eyes light up in excitement. "And I'll show my gratitude."

She folds her arm over her chest to hold the sheet and steps out of the bed. He stands up and she looks at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"It doesn't mean I don't have time for an extended shower, though." She purrs, pressing herself against him. She then takes his hand and pulling him in, ushers him into the bathroom.

The following night, they are lying face to face beneath the mosquito net, in the dim light of her bedside lamp. His fingers brush through her red hair and she gazes at him with a content grin on her face.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispers eventually, breaking the blissful silence.

She nods. He gathers his words carefully.

"What happened with Jake?" he asks.

Weeks after she had told him the news, the question is still in his mind. Jake was the barrier, the wall standing between him and Kat, standing between him and the happiness he is experiencing tonight. Curiosity kills the cat but he needs to understand, to know what was the flaw in their seemingly happy relationship.

"He asked me to marry him," she answers. Then she grunts and shifts, staring up at the ceiling bemused eyes. "I had this great guy, loving and patient, ready to commit. And I realized I couldn't give back any of it."

He watches her pensive expression with understanding.

"You said he made you happy."

Katherine gulps down. "He did, for a while. Before things started to shift when you…," she trails off. "You came with answers and you stirred emotions I was not familiar with until then."

"What emotions?"

"It's a mix of opposites. It feels unpredictable yet It feels familiar. It's challenging yet it's safe. It's thrilling and it's right. Although I have no memories, I can feel the imprint of them in every interaction of them. Like we were always meant to get along. It was unsettling at first, but when I finally saw through them, it was obvious I was a changed person. I'm no longer Katherine Doe."

His heart races. "Who are you now?"

She turns her head to look at him again. "That's what I'm trying to figure out…with you," she smiles, but her eyes betray an exhilarating fear of the unknown and the unpredictable. It's as thrilling as it is scary. "All I know is that I'm not Doe anymore. I'm Katherine…I'm Kat."

The corner of his mouth curls up as his eyes gleam with the water that her words have summoned. He always thought they had a special connection, one that transcends time and space. And after finding her in Louisiana, one that would overcome outer space magic. To hear from her that she feels it too fills him with joy and with walloping hope. He begins to believe again that Natasha is there somewhere, and that soon, she will find her way back to the surface.

The hand cupping her face travels to the nape of her neck then gently caresses her bust, following the trail down to her navel, around which his fingertips whirl playfully. Then they are forced to halt by the border made by the edge of the cotton sheet. He slowly pulls it down, unveils her hipbones when, unlike the night before they had spent in the dark, the lamp nearby brings to his attention a detail that had gone unnoticed. He frowns slightly and his thumb brushes over the smooth spot on her stomach. The scar Natasha once showed him, the one that The Winter Soldier had inflicted upon her, was gone. There was nothing to be found as a possible trace that it had once existed.

"You seem confused," Katherine remarks with an innocent smile.

Although he cannot find any rational explanation for that mysterious disappearance, he deems it best not to concern her with a gory and now irrelevant detail from the past.

"Nothing that matters," he answers.

He then slips under her sheet and begins to leave a trail of heated kisses all over her body starting with the immaculate piece of skin right above her hipbone.

The next morning their date plans are interrupted by the impromptu visit of Mr. Donovan. When he calls downstairs, Katherine jumps out of bed, put on the cotton dress lying on the armchair and rushes to the entrance door.

"Oh dear, you look totally disheveled," the old man exclaims, clueless.

"I had a late-night," she explains, patting her hair to make it flat. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I brought fresh cheese and some tea for Eliza. Where is she?"

"Eliza has gone visiting a friend. She's coming back tomorrow," she says and heads over to the kitchen. "Would you some coffee?"

She switches on the machine. George shakes his head.

"I just came to say hi to Eliza. I'm sure you have better things to do than serve me coffee."

Steve comes down the stairs — he had time to dress and wash his face.

"You know I always have time for you," Katherine answers.

Mr. Donovan turns and greets.

"Ah, Steve!"

"Nice to see you, sir." He shakes his hand.

"You two haven't been too busy, have you?"

Katherine and Steve eye each other.

"Hardly," she exclaims, pouring some coffee into a mug.

"I'm gonna take Riley for a walk," Steve says and she nods approvingly.

George takes a sip and leans on the counter.

"I was sorry to find out you and Jake were broken up," he eventually says.

Katherine frowns. "How do you know?" she asks.

"Well, you two haven't been seen together for a while. And then Jake told me." She hides behind her mug, sipping tastelessly. "It's none of my business of course but the kid really cared about you. But I know you had your reasons."

"I'm sure he'll find a great girl," she comments.

"None as beautiful as you for sure," George answers with a snort.

"Home sweet home!" Eliza exclaims as she steps through the door the next day. Both Steve and Katherine went to pick her up at the coach station.

"It's good to you have you back, Eliza. I'm gonna take your bag to your room." Steve says and heads upstairs.

"Aww, you can always count on him to serve the courteous lie," she says after he's gone.

Katherine rolls her eyes and takes her to the couch. "We _did_ miss you."

"I wonder when you two possibly found the time to foster such a thought. Unless he was an underperforming lover..."

"Liz!"

"That great, huh? Lucky girl," Eliza smiles cheekily, then innocently raises her hands. "Don't worry, I will not ask you for details. That would be inappropriate."

"You've been inappropriate for 40 minutes," Katherine remarks coolly as she returns with a glass of cool lemonade.

Eliza furrows her brows. "I don't see what you're talking about!"

"All those innuendos on the ride back home. You're no so subtle, you know?"

"It's entertaining! I'm a mean old woman who gets satisfaction from teasing people who are still in their youth — sue me."

"As if that would stop you. Besides, I never confirmed we got it on."

"Oh, but you just did," Eliza winks triumphantly.

A couple of days has gone by since Eliza's return. Steve is sitting on the stairs of the porch, holding his phone in a tight and nervous grip. He takes a breath in and presses the dial button.

The dial tone seems to linger on forever, and eventually, somebody picks up.

"Hello," he hears the familiar answer dispassionately.

"Hi, Bruce." He clears his throat awkwardly.

He knows for a fact that Clint has shared the news with the rest of the team. Banner is the only one who abstained to give him a call.

Silence falls on the other end of the line.

"Bruce, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"How could you not tell us? Tell me?" His voice is not angry, not resentful. Only sorrowful. "After everything that happened."

Steve's jaw clench.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I really am. You too deserved to know the truth."

Bruce sniffles lightly. Steve can hear his nod from across the line.

"I need to know. Can she get her memories back?"

Turning to the genius brain of the team seems to be one of his last resorts.

"I don't know," Banner answers dolefully. "The Stones are the most powerful things in this Universe. I don't think there is a technology, earthly or else, that is strong enough to reverse their magic."

The heavy lump that has just come to his throat is heavy and painful. Hearing aloud what he dreaded in his mind is more unbearable than he had imagined.

"Keep looking, will you? Ask Shuri and Strange," he manages to murmur through his breaking voice.

"Of course," Banner answers benevolently. They tacitly share the same sorrow.

The line goes dead and it takes him a few seconds to lower the phone. He stares at the landscape ahead, his jaw clenched.

He'd hoped that their connection would be strong enough for her memories to emerge but now he fears their earthly bond cannot compete with this otherworldly magic.

He finds it difficult — impossible — to come to terms with it. He is far from acceptance yet and he cannot resign himself to give up on Natasha, all that she was and all that he shared with her. And deep down, although he will never admit it, he is afraid Katherine will not be enough to fill up the space left by the loss of Natasha. Natasha's shoes are too big to fill, even for herself.

Of course, he will cherish every moment with her, and he knows he could even be happy at times. But he will never cease to miss his teammate, his partner with shared-life experience, his best friend and rock from the 21st Century.

The door creaks open behind him and light footsteps come near. Two arms wrap around him as she buries her face in his neck and nuzzles it. He presses one hand on hers.

"What are you doing out here on your own?" Katherine asks.

"Had to make a call," he lies evasively.

The last thing he wants is to burden Kat with something she has no power over.

"Dinner is ready," she whispers and plants a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll be right there."

She stands up and heads back inside the house, completely oblivious and unwary, peaceful.

And he finds himself envious.


	14. Chapter 14

Kat is, Steve learned with time, a stubborn person whose only guidance she follows is her own. Natasha, broken by the Red Room and her past, had found some kind of peace in trusting someone implicitly in the person of Steve; like a tranquil surrender. Kat, still young and immaculate, is a force of nature to be reckoned with; strong-willed and unwavering.

It, therefore, took weeks before he heard the remote sound of classical music playing in her bedroom. But this one morning as he walks along the hall, her voice calls after him excitedly. He turns around, grins fondly upon seeing the beaming smile across her face.

"I need to show you something," she says, waving a hand.

He comes into her room and she makes him stand by the chest of drawers before carefully closing the door behind him. One of Mozart's symphony is playing on the stereo; he recognizes it instantly — it used to be one of Natasha's favorite piece.

Kat walks to the middle of the room, smiles nervously then nervously breathes in. Her features relax the next moment, her body stands square, then she lifts her arms halfway in the air and sways a leg forward. He notices the pair of pointed shoes at her feet. After a short pause, she swings the same leg backward: it soars high up with an astounding easiness as her torso gently leans over in the opposite direction. Her leg gracefully goes back down to the floor. She stands upright again, breathes in, pushes herself up. Her heels take off the wooden floor, her feet stand erect as the whole weight of her body, lightless it seems, lies on her toes.

Steve watches the feat with unconcealed amazement and his eyes begin to gleam from the sweetness of past memories.

Her heels descend back to the floor without a sound. Kat lets out a big breath and chuckles.

"It took a while to get there but I can't believe it got back to me so easily," she says with a smile.

He clears his throat and laughs as he cups her face between his hands.

"It's amazing," he answers with the right dose of enthusiasm not to lay any form of pressure on her shoulders. "I'm proud of you."

She leans in and pecks his lips. "It's hard but I like it. I like the discipline of it. Quite a change for me who is usually all over the place."

She glances over his shoulder at the clock.

"I have to get downstairs," she says. She scurries to the stereo, switches it off, then sits on the edge of the bed to untie the ribbons around her calves. She then rolls them the shoes and puts them on the bed.

Then she disappears behind the door — the footsteps echo down the stairway. He slowly goes to sit on the bed and his fingers stroke the smooth fabric of the ribbons lying loosely on the bed linen.

Life at Miller's Guesthouse goes on peacefully and routinely. Guests check in and out and days mostly consist of housework, DIY, strolls with Riley and conversations with Eliza.

Steve and Kat have made it a point to avoid any PDA in front of her, not exactly out of respect, but for the sake of minimizing comments from her part. Her knowing smirks and looks are still there, though.

One evening after dinner, after Kat has tucked Eliza in, she suggests they go on a walk. Riley excitedly wags her tail as she whizzes through the front door.

They walk, walking hands, under a clear sky on a full moon; the sound of birds twittering and grasshoppers chirping guide their way like background music. He has grown used to that melody.

"Summer is almost over," she says musingly. "It's gonna get pretty quiet around here. It might get boring for you even."

"I'm sure I can survive it. I've had to deal with worse."

She smirks. "Never underestimate the ravaging power of monotony the countryside holds."

He smiles. "Noted. I won't let my guard down."

She stops and turns to look at him. "Do you mean that? Staying longer?"

He gazes into her eyes. "I'm right where I want to be right now."

After a pause, he adds: "Besides, finishing all the home improvement has kind of become a point of honor with me."

She rolls her eyes playfully. "I know how much Captain America values honor. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of that."

He sniggers. "Please, I'm sure Bucky would a lot to say about that. I'm not as nice as I seem."

She cocks an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"

"I've been a fugitive quite a few times."

"In the name of justice and liberty."

"I've destroyed state property."

"Collateral damage," she shrugs it off with a cocky expression.

"I used to get in fights at movie theatres."

She feigns to yawn. "I'm sure they deserved it."

"Not really. They were just too loud for my liking."

"Oh please. Have you ever done something crazy for the sake of fun?"

He frowns. "I'm sure I have," he comments musingly.

The air is hot and heavy this evening, she realizes. Her hands go up to the buttons under her collar and swiftly begin to unfasten them.

"What are you doing?" he asks, noticeably alarmed.

"Challenging you to some midnight skinny-dipping, if you're up for it."

The dress slips off her shoulders and falls on the grass.

He laughs softly. "Please, that's hardly a challenge."

"Ok, then. The last one in the water has to wash the dishes."

His eyes widen and shoot up at her. They stare at each other for a second before Kat runs past him to the wooden pier farther down. He funs after her, slipping his shirt off in the process and throwing it behind him. Riley is running along with them in unclear excitement. He's now unbuckling his belt when Kat slips the straps of her bra off of her and unclasp it. It falls right next to one of his shoes.

They run along the pier and, coming to the edge, stop. He swiftly takes off his shoes and socks as Kat pulls the pin out of her hair and, swaying her hips, lets her underwear fall off to the ground. He unbuttons his jeans and drops them to the floor.

Kat exclaims in utter outrage: "Cheater. You're not wearing any underwear!"

Both jump into the water in a loud splash. Riley is wagging her tail from the pier, watching them closely.

They come back to the surface and laugh together.

"I don't want to be this person," he begins slowly, "but I got in first."

"You wish," she sniggers before diving back into the water.

He feels her swim right by his side, as the meanders made by her flapping legs spread out around him. Her fingers suddenly pinch one of his buttocks. He throws his arms in the water and captures her, pulls her back to the surface.

"Physical assault won't change anything," he exclaims. She spits the water that is in her mouth right at him and laughs. "Oh, you wait," he begins but she swims away.

He grabs her ankle and pulls her back to him as she attempts to escape. Trapped again into his arms, she turns to look at him.

He is still laughing and she smiles fondly. She comes closer to him.

"I'm coming with you," she says, "to the compound. I want you to show me what your life is like."

His expression turns serious. "You don't have to if you're not ready."

She puts her palm on the side of his face. "Except I'm ready. You've done so much for me, now it's my turn to give back. It's who I used to be and I should know all about it. We could spend a few days there."

He smiles. "That'd be great."

Her thumb runs along his bottom lip. "It's settled then."

Her eyes dart to his mouth then she leans in to kiss them. She presses her body against his torso, closing up the space between them. He slips his hands under her legs and wraps them around his waist.

"I'll admit I never made love in the water," his husky voice whispers into her ear.

"I thought you were a pro of skinny-dipping," she murmurs back.

"Yeah! With Buck."

She throws her head backward and laughs. Then he presses her back against the thick foot of the pier nearby and kisses her again.

A few days later, they are on their way to the compound. Katherine could not convince Eliza to stay at someone else's house but she made sure the Donovans would come and visit daily while she is away.

She hugs her tight. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" she asks again.

Eliza smiles. "I don't belong to that world. It is only right you go with the most-suited person," she answers, glancing at Steve.

"You would fit there just fine," Katherine answers. "Besides I'm only away for a few days. I'll be back soon."

They are now on the Avengers jet with Sam and Bucky. During the flight, Katherine wanders out of her seat to stand behind the pilot's seat, gazing at the spectacular view ahead.

"Not surprised," Sam smirks. "It is your seat after all. You loved flying this beauty."

She glances down at the control board, watches how Sam's hands firmly hold the handle with a gentle grip. "Yeah," she clears her throat, "I can see why."

And her eyes dive back into the infinite horizon.

The jet eventually touches down and she feels her heartbeat quicken as the back door open, opening the path to what was once her life. Steve gives her a reassuring nod, sensing her nervousness and together, make their way to the bright open space.

Clint is standing a few feet away with his arms crossed and a slightly tense look. His expression softens, mellows, as soon as he sees her, and his arms fall to his side.

Steve glances over at Sam. "I guess he got here after we took off," Wilson comments.

Clint walks over to them and holds Katherine in his arms, eyelids closed tightly, jaw clenched.

"I missed you," he tells her after pulling away, looking into her eyes.

"I'm glad to see you too," she answers with a small, genuine grin.

Behind him stand faces she has only seen on the Internet. A young woman, with a slender figure and long, wavy hair, steps forward with watery eyes.

"I'm Wanda," she says softly. "You…mentored me."

Katherine nods. "It's nice to meet you," she says. Wanda hesitantly puts her hand on her shoulder, squeezes it a bit then finally steps closer and holds her in her arms sheepishly.

Another man is standing behind her, tall and square. His posture which betrays his military discipline is toned down by the emotional expression cast over his face.

He holds her in his arms, rubbing her back fondly.

"My name's Rhodey. I was unofficially was best friend — we all knew but deemed it best not to steal Clint's thunder. He's a prideful guy."

Barton rolls his eyes.

"Both points dully noted," Kat says. She then turns and looks at the tall figure standing a little away from the group, watching dolefully.

She comes over to him while Steve's downcast eyes dart away.

"Hi. I'm Bruce," he murmurs softly and the tears that have gathered in his eyes glisten through his reading glasses. He pauses, suddenly at a loss of words, as the bittersweet realization that she is indeed sanding here dawns on him. "Kat," he eventually continues, "It's so good to see you."

"Thank you, Bruce." She speaks thoughtfully.

Some silence falls upon them which he finds unsettling. He rubs his temple, smiles nervously and blurts out: "You and I used to be close. We had a thing."

Someone among the group clears their throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Steve sighs silently and glances down at his shoes.

"Oh," she raises an eyebrow, pouting slightly.

Bruce realizes he has made a blunder and backtracks with a small laugh. "I mean when I was still human...normal size."

Katherine squeezes her lips together, grins awkwardly before Clint holds her arms and takes her inside.

"I'm sorry," Banner mumbles after she's gone. "I was only trying to break the ice! I didn't mean to weird her out."

"It wasn't that horrible," Rhodey says cordially.

"I did it too," Bucky chimes in, "kinda."

The men glance at one another knowingly.

"It's alright," Steve eventually says as he comes up to him.

Bruce sighs, facepalming. "It can't get worse, at least."

* * *

Clint takes her to what used to be her bedroom, dutifully untouched. It takes her a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, like some kind of surrender or acceptance to make it hers too. Clint sits next to her, chats and eventually shows her photos of his family.

After lunch, the team gathers in the briefing room. Katherine sits at the corner of the table and listens through the meeting like a diligent intern. They use codes and vocabulary that she does not quite understand. Her attention eventually dwells on Steve as she watches how he naturally reprises his role within the team. He does not speak much, lets Sam and Rhodey lead the discussion, but his attentiveness and his pertinent comments do not go unnoticed. She notices how everybody in the room unconsciously gravitates around him, around his authority, like some automatism. All look at and listen to him whenever he speaks with utmost respect and appreciation — the kind of respect and appreciation that is built through time, earned legitimately.

The Avengers look up to him not because he is Captain America, but because he has proven he is the worthy leaders this team needs.

Part of her admires him; part of her can't help but feel inadequate.

After a busy afternoon during which the team basically took turns to catch up with her, dinner turns out to be a laidback, light-hearted moment where she begins to feel at ease, and finds to some extent, a sense of belonging.

Later that evening, Clint offers to walk her back to her bedroom. She and Steve glance at each other, across the table, before she finally nods and leaves the room with Barton.

After a long after-midnight chat with Bucky, Steve eventually makes his way back to his bedroom. It is striking how he first finds it to be cold and unwelcoming. After some time, he begins to find his bearings, and old routine, again. Lying in the moonlit room, he does not catch sight of the slim figure that tiptoes across the wide window and makes its way into his bed. He opens his eyes and finds the most beautiful familiar face.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi," he whispers back with a smile.

He lifts his sheet so she can slip underneath. She presses her back against his torso and lies her head on his arm. He wraps his other arm around her waist.

"I…," she trails off. "The other bedroom felt like it was someone else's."

Her confession doesn't leave him indifferent.

"It's okay," he says. "I'd rather you sleep in my arms, anyways."

"I'm glad you're here," she says. "I could not have done this without you."

He buries his face into her neck, breathes in her scent.

"I know today mustn't have felt easy. Those things take time, and you should have all the time in the world for it."

She reaches for his hand and kisses it. Soon, she drifts off.

The following morning, the team is called for a robbery in New York. Only a few members get there while Katherine stays in the control room with Banner and Steve.

She follows the mission through the CCTV playing on the holographic screen. She nervously bites her thumb, leg up on the other knee, foot shaking throughout.

The thrill is almost hypnotic and her eyes never leave the screen. Her body is in the room but her mind is in that bank with them.

The missions goes swiftly and the robbers are quickly caught.

When everyone is in the facility, Katherine quietly stares across at Wanda. Her fingers are drawing lines over the kitchen table.

"You were fantastic…out there," she eventually tells the young woman who stares back at her quizzically. "I admire your courage — and grace— especially, at such a young age."

Wanda smiles. "Everything I learned, I learned it from you. I wouldn't be half the person I am now if it weren't for your guidance."

Kat glances down at the table and nods musingly.

"You mean half the warrior, I suppose," she comments dolefully but with acceptance. She supposes Scarlett Witch learnt a lot from the Black Widow.

Wanda shakes her head assertively. "No, person."

She reaches over to hold her hand. "You were like a big sister to me."

She feels her eyes sting a little and she quietly nibbles her thumb in defense mechanism. She appreciates Wanda's tactful response in avoiding to put any sort of pressure in getting this big sister back.

"Thank you, Wanda. It means a lot."

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice echoes across the compound: some wanted criminals have just been spotted in a warehouse in the outskirts of Washington D.C.

The team gathers in the briefing room. Kat is leaning against the doorframe. Steve has worked on the case and knows it well; he gives the instructions.

As all leave the room to get changed, Katherine walks up to him.

"I'm coming," she says determinedly. "I want to be in."

Steve takes a breath in, gazes at her.

"Ok," he says. "Suit up."

She enters the changing with a pounding heart, her eyes skim across the names on the many lockers, until they fall on the one that reads "Natasha."

She takes hold of the handle and gently opens it like it is a sarcophagus. The metal door opens without a sound. She gulps down as her eyes roam over all the different pieces of the outfit.

She grazes the fabric of the khaki vest on one of the hangers. She glances down and carefully touches the bracelets; they immediately switch on and shine a light blue color.

As intimating as it looks, she also finds it very cool.

Waiting inside the jet, Steve freezes at the familiar sight of the Black Widow outfit as Kat steps onboard alongside Clint. He regains composure and gives the call for the jet to take off.

He repeats the instructions again. Barton is to station himself at the antenna tower by the warehouse, he and Bucky are to enter from the front, Wanda and Katherine from the back while Sam and Rhodey are to secure the perimeter.

"We'll get their attention from the start and all will rush to the main door. The back should be empty," he says, glancing at Kat.

She nods: that is enough adrenaline for a first time.

The mission goes according to the plan when Katherine and Wanda make it into the warehouse. Distant gunshots echo across the building. They walk along a wide hall when a man emerges from around the corner. He holds up their rifles, fingers on the trigger when Wanda moves her hands and a bright red light wraps around him and violently propels him over the fence.

Katherine stares at Wanda with a mix of admiration and fear.

"You officially have the coolest superpowers," she comments.

Wanda smirks. "Make sure to say that in front of Strange when he visits."

They walk farther down the empty hall.

"Lone targets in the right wing," Sam's voice says on the line.

"We're busy at the moment," Bucky responds.

Wanda presses two fingers on the transmitter. "I'm on it," she says. She then turns to Katherine. "Stay here." She complies with a nod and Wanda uses her powers to take off and fly away.

Kat cautiously walks along the hall without straying. Suspicious sounds echo behind her. She jumps in surprise and flips around, restlessly looking all around her. The sounds sound out again louder and two men appear in front of her.

Her heart skips a beat and she instinctively takes a step back. She holds her hand up, aims at one and shoots her bite. It hits him and the criminal falls to the floor. The other one has his rifle up and pulls the trigger.

"Target in the back hall," she calls through the transmitter.

She turns right and runs off: the bullets hit the wall behind her.

She runs as fast as she can, and the speed at which she does astounds her. She hears running footsteps behind but dares not glance over her shoulder.

She gets to the main hall and runs along the very high metal shelves towering over her. Gunshots fly just above her head and she ducks before turning to another aisle, and another. She stealthily sneaks along the aisles until he has lost her for good.

She stands behind crates to catch her breath. This part of the warehouse is dauntingly silent. After a minute, she peeks through and steps out of her hiding place. Suddenly strong arms clutch around her from behind. She lets out a cry and throw her leg upwards, kicking the target in the face. He lets go of her at first and she kicks the rifle away from his grip.

He punches her in the face, deflects her hits and pins her down to the floor. His heavy body straddles her and his gloved hands clasp her throat tightly. She is gasping for air, helpless. She tries to kick with her legs but his weight and the strength dangerously leaving her make it impossible.

Her terrified eyes plunge into his and find nothing but cold indifference. Her mind goes hazy, blurs with the thousand of shapeless thoughts invading it. But in the terror of this moment, she manages to form one, a not so remote memory. She folds her legs, puts her feet on the floor to gain momentum before throwing them upwards. She wraps her legs around the man's head and shoulders and flips their bodies over. She presses her knee deep onto the criminal's throat until his face turns red. His lids flutter and he soon goes unconscious. His grip around her loosens until his arms fall to the ground.

She drops her head and sighs in relief.

But the sound of a gun echoes above. She looks up and finds another target aiming at her from the top floor. He pulls the trigger and the bullet pierces through the air. She closes her eyes, feels a swift motion then hears the rattling sound of metal.

When she opens her eyes, she finds Steve standing in front of her with his shield held up in front of her. He emerges from behind it and jolts it at the criminal who falls to the floor, knocked out.

"You okay?" he asks, kneeling in front of her with an alarmed expression. She breathes out a yes.

He cups her face and sighs in relief. Then he speaks on the transmitter: "Warehouse secure. Over."

* * *

The following night, Steve and Kat are lying in his bed, their naked bodies entangled harmoniously, the sheet at their feet. He strokes the side of her face with his fingers.

"You were so brave, today," he whispers musingly. It is a thought that makes him both proud and scared.

"I hardly was. I ran away."

He smiles and his fingers roam along her throat, trace the curve of her breast.

"That's not what courage is about. You came with us; you faced your fear and fought."

She bits her bottom lip. "I'll admit it's not something I thought I was capable of."

"You're capable of anything," he says. "That's what makes you you."

Her pupils quiver. "I'm not sure I know what makes me me. It's unsettling. Truly terrifying."

"But I do, and this is everything I love about you."

His eyes gleam under the bedside lamp with a soft grin. She stares at him with an unexpected cool expression. "Don't say that," she says hardly. "Not if it's not real."

He frowns. "It is real," he says.

She pulls away and turns to look at the ceiling. "It is real…for someone else. This is how you feel about Natasha, not me."

He pauses. "I'm not gonna pretend the situation isn't complicated, but my feelings for you are the only thing that isn't."

"You're not seeing clearly," she says as she gets up, reaches over for the shirt and pants on the floor. "You cannot pretend that your feelings are for the country girl that I am."

He wraps the sheet around his waist and rises.

"You're more than that."

"That is all that I am now," she answers back loudly. She pauses at the sight of his lost expression and steps toward the bed. She caresses his cheek with her face. "I don't have any memories and we both know it is unlikely I'll ever get them back. I don't want to lead you on or hold your hopes up. You need to ask yourself if you are ready to live with that for the rest of your life. Only then will I accept the idea that you do love me for who I am right now."

And she walks out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, he has an early breakfast alone in the kitchen. He hasn't had much sleep and his meal consists of a strong cup of coffee and an apple. He wandered in the area where her bedroom is and sort of lingered on behind her door for a few minutes until he eventually walked on.

To his surprise, he recognizes her silhouette sitting outside. He should have known she would have an early morning. When he steps through the glass door the sun has barely arisen; the sky is still colored pink and warm orange.

He walks down to the pier by the lake.

Kat is gazing at the horizon, ironically sitting on the very bench where he mourned the news of her loss.

"Can I join you?" he asks.

Her eyes remain locked on the scenery before her. "Yes," she answers softly.

He sits beside her and gazes ahead. It hits him now how beautiful the view is he who had dreaded this place for months. Sitting by her side, now he can contemplate and see the beauty of the landscape.

He begins to gather the words he wants to say but she has already anticipated it.

"I'm not mad at you," she comments coolly, eyes fixed ahead. "I just had to say my piece before you said something we would both come to regret."

"So you don't want to hear me say it?" he asks.

"Not yet. Not until you are absolutely sure the person I am now —that I have become — is the one you are after." After a pause, she closes her eyes and adds: "You know, I've really tried to remember — for me, of course — but also for you. I know how much it means to you to get Natasha back but after learning more about the Infinity Stones here, I realize it cannot be undone."

She turns to look at him and her expression is tristful, apologetic. "It can't, Steve. And I am so sorry you have to go through losing Natasha again. But after this couple of days, I know I can't be her. I can't bring her back to you."

His eyes fill up with tears. Tears for Natasha and tears for her which blend together in a sullen haze.

She runs her hand over her cheek, wipes away a tear she has just shed.

"It's not your fault," he answers. "I never should have made you feel like you were inadequate…because you're not. And I'm sorry our visit here wasn't insightful."

"It was," she answers, clearing her throat and putting on a smile. "I like it here. And the mission was a new kind of thrilling I had never felt before — it felt good. I understand who I was and why I was that person better. I relate to her now."

There is a content grin playing on her lips. She then looks down and rubs her hands over her thighs. "But I also know this isn't my world anymore," she continues. "I miss Eliza and I miss the guesthouse."

She wrinkles her nose sheepishly like someone embarrassed to confess their guilty pleasure.

He reaches for her and squeezes it with a tender smile. "I miss it, too."

She cocks an eyebrow. "Really?" she beams.

He nods. "Really."

He stands up, glances one more time across the lake then turns to her, stretching out his hand. "Let's get you home," he says.

She wraps her hand around his and gets up. His lips delicately capture hers and he is filled by the soothing certainty all is right.

The following afternoon, they are in Louisiana. Sitting at the dinner table, next to each other — Eliza at the head — they eat dinner and smile at each other in unison both knowing in their heart it feels like they are back at home.

* * *

The next days go by as blithely. Before leaving, Clint made Katherine promise she would stay in touch, therefore every two days she goes to sit by the laptop and sends an email. Steve notices she often smiles while doing so — it seems she is not insensitive to Barton's sense of humor.

She also tells Eliza all about her stay in the compound, shares the tale of her first mission. Her eyes light up with excitement while Eliza watches her with a knowing smile peeking through her weary expression.

"And that is how two criminals without anyone's help."

"I'm not surprised," Eliza comments matter-of-factly. "I've always seen you as my superhero. You came and saved my guesthouse business, looked after me."

And as he listens, Steve sees the beautiful truth of it.

On Friday, a middle-aged couple checks in for the weekend in order to explore the area. The net morning, as Steve helps Katherine pick up the dishes that have been used, he chimes in the conversation and suggests a couple of sites to visit. Katherine eyes him with a cocked eyebrow. After the couple has put on their jackets and shot off for the day, she looks over the kitchen counter.

"Look at you," she says," you almost sound like a local!"

He turns to her and smiles. He walks over to the counter and leans over. "I had a good guide," he comments with a playful grin.

She rests her chin on the palm of her hand and smiles. He leans in and stokes her lips with his.

"I thought we could go horse riding today," she murmurs. "It's been a while."

His thumb caresses the side of her face. "I'd like that."

* * *

The following week, Steve goes to do some DIY in the backroom. His eyes fall on the canvas Katherine has left to dry. Half of it is unfinished but the first colors and the sketch done in pencil are enough to recognize the setting. It is the lake by the Avengers compound.

At the forefront, two vague figures sit facing the scenery. He smiles as he understands she has drawn a memory — a very recent one — which involves him, too. He stands in front of the canvas for a couple of minutes, contemplating the little details and the accurate choice of colors. He finds himself enthralled by her meticulous and vivid recollection of the scenery. Her eyes and memory absorbed every single detail with extreme acuteness and accuracy. And it make shim realize that her Black Widow skills are still there: her strong sense of observation, her pedantic perception of her surrounding, the discipline with which she utilizes them are all present, only used for different purposes. Katherine is what Natasha would have been if she had never been thrown in the secret intelligence world.

A thud coming from upstairs interrupts his thinking. He goes to resume his work and collects his tools when Katherine's alarmed voice call out a few moments later.

"Steve!" she yells from upstairs.

He puts everything down, runs through the door, across the living room to the staircase by the entrance door. Rushing along the corridor, he catches sight of Eliza's bedroom door wide open and finds Katherine leaning over her unconscious body. She looks up at him with an anguished expression.

"Please get the doctor right off the Johnson's farm!"

And he heads out and jumps in the Chevy with a racing heart.

* * *

Steve is silently standing by the window, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the doctor examining Eliza who is lying in her bed, Katherine sitting by her side, holding her hand tightly. Eliza's face is pale and haggard and he notices how her hand is lying loosely under Katherine's grip.

The doctor is quiet, swapping instruments to auscultate her with an unreadable expression.

After several minutes, he eventually puts all the equipment back into his case and stands up.

"I told you you were alright," Katherine comments with a light-hearted tone which is only betrayed by the grim look in her eyes.

"I need to speak with Eliza for a moment," the doctor says.

Katherine frowns and glances at Eliza who nods at her softly. She pats the elderly woman's hand tenderly before letting it go and heads out into the hall, followed by Steve.

They both stand across from each other, leaning on the wall. The silence is daunting.

After minutes which seem to drag on, the doctor eventually steps out and pulls the door behind him. Katherine immediately stands back up and turns to him. The doctor's face is somber.

"Her pulse is low and she had labored breathing. She's very weak."

Kat nervously bites her bottom lip but nods thoughtfully. "Ok, I'll tend to her. Maybe her medication needs to be changed."

The doctor rubs the spot above his eyebrow and clears his throat.

"There's nothing that I can do, Katherine. It's the end."

Steve glances away and folds his arms.

Katherine shuts her eyelids as she seems to process the information. She shakes her head and babbles.

"What do you mean it's the end? We'll just take her to a hospital where can be done to help her."

"Eliza knows and she's at peace with it. She doesn't want to spend her last moments in a hospital."

Her eyes fill up with tears and she bites her cheek. "How long?" she asks with a hard look.

"Not long," he answers softly. The cruel truth begins to sink in and she looks over his shoulder at the closed door. The doctor puts a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Katherine. We will all be. Eliza is a beloved member of our community. But we must respect her wish."

She stares at him blankly then steps past him to the door. She wipes her hands across her cheeks, takes a deep breath in and puts on a well-crafted smile. She turns the knob and walks in.

Several hours later, long after the doctor has gone, Kat leaves Eliza's bedside to make her food. She asks Steve to take over and says she won't take long.

He walks into the bright room, pulls the chair closer to bed and sits down. Eliza is lying against her pillows with a collected and calm expression.

"It's a beautiful day," she comments musingly as she gazes towards the window. Her breathing is ragged, although hardly noticeable. "I guess that's how I've always wanted to go. Some people would rather depart on a rainy day — they say so they won't leave with any regret— but I personally it's a bit too dramatic." She chuckles softly.

The corner of his mouth curls up into a small grin. She eventually turns to look at him. There is a playful look twinkling in her eyes.

"This is the moment when I'm supposed to tell you to take good care of my Katherine and to always make her happy — especially the next few weeks — but I won't do any of it. I know you will not fail at this task."

His throat tightens. "I promise I won't," he says quietly.

They move on to lighter talks, filled with shared smiles and laughter. Eventually, when their private moment soon comes to a close, her expression turns serious but tranquil.

"I'm glad I met you, Steve Rogers," she says with a grin as she lays her hand on his.

He leans forward, covers her knuckles with his second hand and smiles.

"It was my honor to meet you, Eliza Miller."

A couple of hours later, the light-hearted chuckles have vanished from the house. The rooms and halls have been invaded by some heavy silence. Katherine is sitting on the bed, holding Eliza's hand. The woman hasn't said a word in a while: she just gazes peacefully through the window.

"You know when I came back after five years and that Robert was gone, I was scared," she begins musingly. "When I dusted, everything was dark. No heaven or any other place. Just nothingness. I feared death was only some kind of switch that flips off and that I would never see Robert again."

Her daunting words echo through the room. Yet the tone of voice is devoid of worry; on the contrary, it is calm and composed.

"But now that I can feel it is the end, I can feel how different it is from that moment I was dusted. And now I know that I am on my way to meet with Robert. He's waiting for me."

Katherine's eyes fill up with water.

"I'm not ready for you to go," she murmurs and her voice breaks. A tear rolls down her face.

"It's okay. You were here for me, like a loving daughter, when I was all alone and I am relieved to know that you won't be when I go. That is the only thing that would have held me back."

Katherine buries her face into Eliza's hands, trying to muffle her sobs. She holds her head back up and looks her in the eye.

"I love you," she cries.

Steve is watching from the corner in the room where he is standing. He quietly mourns the loss of a friend and his heart breaks at the sight of Katherine's grief.

Eliza smiles with the fond look of a mother. Her head slightly sinks into her pillow and her eyes close slowly forever.

Katherine's sobbing fills the room.

* * *

**Author's note:** The next chapter is the final one! Thank you so much for your sweet reviews — they always make my day!


	16. Final Chapter

Eliza Miller's funeral takes place on a sunny Wednesday. The light breeze is mild, makes the flowers quiver. The discreet sky is pastel blue; in the distance, thick clouds are gently rolling in.

All are gathered quietly around the grave lying only a few feet apart from Robert Miller's. There is nothing but the solemn sound of the eulogy and the humming of the rustling leaves from the trees nearby. Eliza's kindness did not leave indifferent as demonstrated yet again by the high number of individuals gathered in a dense circle.

Katherine stands slightly apart, the closest to the grave. She stares at the newly-turned earth, head down and gaze fixed. Her eyes are dry and warily keep the secret of her mournful turmoil. Steve is by her side, hands in the pockets of his dark suit, his clenched jaw hung to sorrowful eyes. The reverend's words sound out in his ears like the final continuous buzzing of bells before dying out forever.

He feels her cold hand touch his knuckles and her fingers slowly wrap around his hand and hold on. He glances at her and finds the same unwavering gaze fixed on the grave. Lost and desperate. He gently closes his hand around hers.

Across from them, on the other side, someone watches this wordless interaction take place. Jake's eyes quietly dwell on their hands then roam up slowly before dropping completely.

The wake at the house goes on quietly. The sound of the rain pattering on the roof sneaks its way inside. People talk, eat and drink with respectful sobriety. All have contributed and brought meals now lying on the long table at the end of the room, some of which are still wrapped.

Katherine does not touch any of it. She dwells on from one guest of another with cordial but remote friendliness. All welcome her company with affectionate compassion, gently press their hands on her shoulder or grin soothingly. Steve has joined the gathering. He talks politely to some of the guests he knows, throwing frequent glimpses at her from where he is standing.

By the evening, everyone has almost gone. Both are now feeling the weight of this heavy day. Standing by the entrance door, George and his wife are saying goodbye; they squeeze her hands comfortingly before stepping out.

Jake follows closely behind and stands in front of her. His expression conveys earnest sadness.

"I'm so sorry, Kate," he murmurs softly. Her face is expressionless and dull. Weary. He leans in and holds her in his arms in a strong and lingering embrace that betrays feelings lying under the surface. Her arms hang loosely and she doesn't move. He eventually pulls away and gazes at her with a wistful look. He pauses and glances over at Steve who just passed across the room. "I just wanted to say," he continues. "I understand now. And it's okay."

He nods to himself and walks through the door, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

Later that night, after all the cleaning, Katherine and Steve are lying silently in her bed, bathing in the infinite darkness of the night. His arms are closely wrapped around her small body, shielding her from any more harm.

After long minutes, the sound of her weeping finally echoes across the room. He kisses the back of her head and holds her closer.

* * *

Three weeks go by during which the sight of the empty chair at the head of the table at breakfast and dinner, the collection of plants in the patio and the silence which bears the absence of Eliza's voice painfully acute at first, grows odiously tolerable over time.

Katherine receives a letter inviting her to attend a meeting with a lawyer whose name she has seen on some administrative documents when she was sorting through paperwork.

She goes alone and drives to the city 60 miles away. The man is courteous, slightly short but slender. His nose is long and straight with soft blue eyes hidden behind a pair of rectangle glasses. He invites her to sit and, after going through formalities she does not pay much attention to, mentions the Miller property. Her body stiffens slightly in response.

"If it's about the mortgage, I reckon it was paid for years ago. I am quite sure of it," she comments. And by being sure of it, she means Eliza was — and, of course, there is, therefore, no reason to question it.

The man smiles and shakes his head politely. "Nothing of the sort, ma'am."

She nods mechanically with a slightly haggard expression which conveys her puzzlement.

"Mrs. Miller named you the legal beneficiary of the house and the entire property for that matter."

Her eyes remain still in bafflement. The man reads her expression and pulls out a document from the folder open in front of him.

"_To my dear Katherine, who filled my life and heart like the most affectionate child would, you who have put order, love and joy in what had become a soulless house after the terrible event the world has known and the passing of Robert, it is only natural that this property you have made a warm hearth again legally goes to you,"_ the lawyer reads the lines without a pause.

Katherine's eyes fill with tears. She looks up at the ceiling and smiles.

"I assume you were aware already," he adds, putting the document down.

"I wasn't," she answered with a fond smile — only Eliza could keep secrets from her.

"Mrs. Miller was absolutely resolute on this matter. You are also to inherit the car and the guesthouse business title —although she mentions you are free to do whatever you please with it. Only a few personal items are to be handed down to some distant relatives or friends. And…," he pauses, picking up the document again, "_I trust you with Riley: she is a little bit of Robert and, with time —albeit fast enough—, she won my heart and also became a little bit of me_."

Kat nods as she wipes her fingers across her cheek. "Of course," she whispers as a quiet promise to her dear friend.

The man looks at her with circumstantial but genuine sympathy worn by years of routine practice. "Some papers need to be signed and approved but it'll only be a matter of weeks before you receive the official papers."

Grief and joy meet and blend together in the most unexpected way.

* * *

The following evening, they have dinner and Steve has abstained to ask any question about the meeting. Her fork wanders aimlessly across the plate, leaving the food almost untouched. After putting the last clean dishes into the cabinet, she wipes her hands dry with the tea towel and puts it down near the sink. She takes a deep breath in and turns around with a determined but serene expression.

"I've inherited the house," she breathes out, hands clutched on the edge of the furniture her back is leaning on.

He smiles. "It's fantastic. You deserve it."

She nervously rubs the spot under her nose. "This…this is my home and I love it here. I can't see myself living anywhere else…ever. I owe it to Eliza and I know this is where I belong."

He gulps down quietly as he feels the gravity in her voice. "I understand," he murmurs softly.

She nods to herself and clears her throat, fighting back the lump stuck at the back of it. "And I can't possibly ask you to stay here with me…not when you have another life waiting in New York, and other hopes for the future. It would be selfish of me to expect you to leave all that behind to stay in the middle of Louisiana." She stands back straight and walks over to him, "whatever your decision is I will accept it but for what's it's worth I wanted to tell you…," she trails off as her dark green eyes quiver and start to gleam as they dive into his, "I love you. I am painfully aware I'm only half of someone now — and probably forever— but know that I love all of you with all that is left of me."

Her words sink in like the most delectable nectar. He gazes into her eyes with wide, darkened pupils and pounces on. His mouth crashes fiercely on hers, eager and unstoppable. A deep moan comes from the back of her throat and he presses his body against hers, pinning her against the kitchen cabinet behind her. His hand delicately cups the side of her face as his lips continue to move insatiably and taste the sweetness of her mouth. He deepens the kiss, sending a galvanizing flow of pleasure through their two bodies. His hands firmly capture her hips and scoop her up on the cabinet; she clutches her knees around his waist to keep her balance.

His lips begin their descent down her jaw and along the nape of her throat while one his hand sneaks under the fabric of her dress and roams up her thigh. His fingertips teasingly graze over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh; it sends shivers up her spine and she puts her hand near the sink for support as her body arches back while a moan of pleasure escapes from her lips.

They have not been intimate since that last night at the Avengers facility and the reunion of their greedy bodies throws them in a frenzy. He pulls her back against him and her hands hastily reach down to the hem of his shirt and pull it off of him. His bare, muscular back glistens under the warm artificial light.

He responds by tearing her dress off of her, sending a couple of buttons fly across the room. His fingers slip under her buttocks and lift her up.

He's headed towards the staircase but her husky voice whispers hoarsely against his neck. "No. I want you now."

He turns left and ushers them both through the door to the painting room. He squats down and gently lays her down on the thick sheet spread across the area she uses for painting. Her latest canvas is still hung on the wooden stand nearby.

She unbuckles his belt, pops the buttons up and pulls his trousers down.

After they make love —during which she cries out as she welcomes the cathartic wave of pleasure her mind and heart have been deprived from for the past three weeks—, their tangled, panting bodies finally surrender to rest. He drifts off to sleep to the coming-and-going of her bosom and to her soft voice whispering I love you like the most incandescent truth.

He dreams of Natasha this night. Not a memory, like he has countless times before. Both are standing at the top of the Vormir cliff. Natasha is standing right at the edge taking in the desolate scenery in front of her. He cautiously comes closer, stretching out an arm toward her.

"You don't have to do it," he pleads gently, "just give me your hand and I'll pull you back to safety."

Natasha turns around and he alarmingly glances down at her feet, anxious to see her fall. Her expression is serene and remote.

"What are you doing here, Steve?" she asks.

He steps closer again and motions for her to move forward with his fingers. "Don't do it, please. Don't jump."

Her eyebrow arches and she gazes at him.

"But I have jumped already."

His eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head.

"No. No. I _can_ save you. If you just give me your hand, I swear you'll be ok."

"I am ok," Nat says. The reflection of the eclipsed moon beacons in her eyes.

"It doesn't have to be this way, though. I can change everything."

The cold wind flies across her face, ominously pulling her in towards the precipice. She smiles at him and takes a step back closer to the edge; her heel is hovering in the air.

"For me, it is the end. It is a new beginning."

He furrows his brows perplexedly. "What?" he whispers with a breaking voice.

"You can catch me, though," she says.

She lets herself fall backward into the dark void.

Steve darts forward screaming and reaches out. His hand catches hers and his fingers securely wrap around it. He opens his eyes in relief and looks up. His brows furrow in confusion.

He is not holding onto Natasha.

Her blond ends have disappeared. Her black catsuit has been replaced with a flowing cotton dress. Katherine is smiling at him.

When he opens his eyes, his arm is draped over the sleeping bare figure of Katherine. The sunlight is passing through the windows and shining on across the room, adding vibrancy to the colorful canvas standing over them. He plants a kiss on her shoulder and gets up.

After putting on his jeans, he walks through the door to the dining room and picks up his shirt, lying on the kitchen floor. He steps out on the porch and bathes in the warm sunlight.

He walks over to the lawn and wanders musingly to the lake.

* * *

When he comes back to the house, Katherine is sitting in the couch in fresh clothes and with washed, damp hair. Her eyes dart in his direction and watch him circumspectly.

"Morning," he says.

"Hi," she answers. She stands up and goes to the kitchen. "For a moment I thought you had gone. Went upstairs to your room to see if your stuff was still there."

"I'm sorry. I needed to gather my thoughts."

She smirks wistfully. "You know you send mixed signals? After what I told you and when we…I thought maybe you had made up your mind. And then I wake up alone."

He comes over to hold her arm but she jerks away.

"I can't do this anymore… be in this unhealthy competition with my past self, feel like I'm stuck in this crazy triangle. If I am not enough then leave."

He frowns deeply and steps in front of her.

"You _are_ enough," he says, forcing eye contact with her. "You're right. I let this situation linger on far too long. I was so scared of the idea of losing Natasha again that I wind up almost losing you now."

He looks down at his shoes and snorts ironically. "I got it all wrong. I kept waiting for Nat to come back when she's never truly gone. Yesterday you said you're only half of a person but it's not true. You are Natasha. And she is you."

His thumb strokes across her cheek and he smiles fondly. "Her memories may be gone but this soul I adore so much — that I fell in love with when I met her and fell further for when I found you— I can see it right now in your eyes staring back at me. I love you," he pauses and laughs, "madly for who you once were and for whom you have become. And you changed me, too. You put the soldier I was at ease and made me discover a life of peace and happiness. A life without a war."

She smiles through her gleaming eyes. They both laugh and he leans in to kiss her. "I love you," he repeats between many kisses on her lips and all over her face.

A week later, Steve, Sam and Bucky are sitting on the porch drinking a cold lemonade.

"So what did you ask us to come here for?" Sam eventually says after small talk.

Steve smiles and nods. He reaches over and picks up his shield he has asked his friends to bring along with them.

"I wanted you to try this on," he tells Sam.

Wilson blinks and glances over at Bucky who smirks at him knowingly. With respectful delicacy and hesitation, he finally takes hold of the shield, slides his arm through the straps and holds it up.

"How does it feel?" Steve asks.

Sam pulls out of this moment of grace and clears his throat.

"Like it's someone else's," he answers matter-of-factly. Wistfully.

Steve smiles. "It isn't."

Sam is frowning. "Why?"

"I left you in charge of the team when I took my indefinite break and you did better than I could."

Sam processes quietly and nods. "So, this is no longer a break, is it?"

He turns and looks at the bucolic scenery before him.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be. This is my home," he says with an assured nod and looks at Sam with a smile. "But the world still needs Captain America. You'll make a wonderful one, Sam. I know it."

Sam takes a deep breath in, overwhelmed by the emotion and pride.

"It'll be my honor, Steve."

He smiles and taps his friend's shoulder. Bucky comes in to stand behind Sam.

"So now that you have the shield does it mean I can get —"

"Don't even think about touching my wings," Sam cuts in very sternly.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve, then he shrugs softly. "At least I tried."

After spending the night, the two friends are on the go.

"What's the check-out policy?" Sam asks teasingly to Steve and Kat standing by the kitchen counter.

"It's on the house," Katherine says with a smile concealing her pale expression, leaning an arm on her man's shoulder.

They hug and all promise to visit again soon. Steve watches as Sam passes through the main door with the shield in his arm.

For him, it is the end.

"You okay?" Kat asks, soothingly running her palm across his back.

He turns to look at her and nods. "Yeah. The shield is in safe hands."

"It doesn't mean it's not difficult to part from it," she says.

He smiles down at her and holds her face. "It isn't," he answers earnestly.

He notices her slightly haggard expression. "Is everything all right? You barely ate anything."

A bashful grin comes across her lips.

"I'm pregnant," she says.

The world around him stands still. Tears come to his eyes.

"What? How?" he beams cheerfully.

He recalls that time Natasha told him about the Red Room and their initiation ritual. But then he understands — she's been healed. Made anew. And the absence of the scar made by the Winter Soldier was the very evidence of it.

Katherine shrugs and smirks playfully. "You're way past the age of the Storks story, right? It's what happens when a man…"

He cuts her in with a long, tender kiss.

He finds himself feeling grateful to the very Universe which had once ripped his happiness away.

It is a new beginning.

* * *

A month has gone by and Steve and Katherine are enjoying what is one of the last days of the mild fall. Sitting by the lake with a basket full of food, Steve is lying across the thin blanket, head resting on her lap, close to her stomach.

Clint, Laura and the children are coming to visit tomorrow. After they decided to put an end to Miller's Guesthouse business, they realized the house was big enough to welcome beloved guests and friends instead.

"The children will love you," he tells her as his palm sweeps across her stomach tenderly.

"I'm sure I'll love them, too." After a pause, she says: "After meeting with Eliza's lawyer, I started a procedure. Just received the official documentation this morning."

"What procedure?" he asks.

She reaches for a folded paper in the back pocket of her jeans and hands it to him.

As he opens it, she says: "It was time to claim who I am."

His eyes skim through the letter and fall on the words centered in the middle of the page.

_New legal name: Katherine N. Miller_

"I'm no longer a Doe," she says with an emotion hardly concealed. Relief and pride.

His eyes linger on the subtle homage to her past self. _N._ like Natasha.

"It has a nice ring to it," he comments. Her name couldn't have been a better embodiment of the person she is now.

She smiles. "I agree."

* * *

"I hardly look beautiful," she laughs in her pillow as they both stare at the round belly peeking out. "Soon I won't be able to see my feet!" Their two hands intertwine and rest on her belly. "How's the cradle coming together?" she asks.

"Just a few adjustments to make and it'll be good." He has spent the past weeks preparing the baby's bedroom.

"I think it's very sweet that you wanted to build it yourself," she says. Then her smile turns into a smirk. "And very sexy."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Is that you making a move on me? Because it's becoming quite difficult to read through your hormonal phases."

She begins to nibble on his ear playfully.

"Is that enough of an answer?" she purrs.

"I guess," he jumps in surprise as she bites his earlobe between her teeth. He leans in and kisses her fully.

The phone rings and interrupts.

"It's Banner," he says, looking at his screen.

Kat gets up and puts her on her robe. "Take it. I'm hungry for chicken anyway," she says, disappearing into the hall.

"It's 8 a.m!" he exclaims before smiling and picking up. "Hi, Banner. What's up?"

The scientist's voice is uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

"I managed to get in touch in Thor. He's somewhere in the Large Magellanic Cloud with the Guardians. That's why it took us so long to find him."

Steve frowns, quite perplexed. "Good. What about him?"

"He said he might know of some device powerful enough to cancel the effects of an Infinity Stone. Steve, it might work! It might bring Natasha back."

Steve listens numbly over the line.

"He said it'll take several months before he gets his hands on it and comes to Earth but it's still the best shot we got, right?"

Remote hope begins to grow, but one that he does not wish to fuel.

"It's great, Bruce," Steve answers coolly. "I'll let Kat know and get back to you."

He says thank you and hangs up.

Coming down to the kitchen to the smell of frying chicken breast, he leans on the counter and watches Katherine as she picks up a plate and turns over the meat with hungry eyes.

She is happy and so is he. He does not give much thought to the news he has just received. As wonderful as it would be to get Natasha's precious memories, he relishes in the perfection of this blissful morning.

He has come such a long way and nothing makes him happier than the certainty that the woman he loves is right by his side.

Blithely filling that space next to him.

* * *

**Author's note:** Thank you for accompanying me on this journey till the end of the line! Can't wait to read your comments! Much love to you xx


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